I found paradise in YOUR presence

Suo has that mysterious aura where anyone will look twice his way. The tassel golden earrings swaying to his steps. The leather eyepatch that leaves people wondering what he hides behind it. Especially the way he brings himself, calm and confident, but always stands on the sideline, like a perfect side protagonist material.

He stands out so much in the crowd, making it easier to find him if you ever lost from his hands. His voice cut out the air beneath both of your heads, and just like that–your eyes lay back to his calm and soft gaze. To you, Suo is the center of your attention, while other people didn’t notice his presence but notice how your eyes gleamed whenever you see him.

As though he's invisible to everyone's eyes. A wallflower. A slight crack in the sidewalk. A faint presence. 

To you, Suo is the reason you found life even more enjoyable. At the same time, he’s a ghost, his presence is just another fleeting feeling you can only find in lost memories. To you, his existence will vanish in thin air, leaving you questions of self-doubt. Temporary.

He stands out too much; it feels like he will disappear after summer ends but doesn’t want other people to forget him just like that.

“Does it make sense?” you ask, feeling a little lost in your own thoughts.

Suo tilts his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you are getting at.”

“Right? I don’t even know how to explain it clearly!” You tousle your hair frustratingly, as if that action can organize the clutter inside your head. “It’s just… um… it feels stupid.”

“No it isn’t.”

That soft voice calls you out again, followed by howling wind blows all frustration inside your chest, like the world heard your hidden prayers inside the crack of your heart. As if Suo possessed your body to give your silent plea to the universe. 

The repetition word makes you feel even more childish, but there's no better word than to describe Suo's presence in your life. He's the perfect side character because he stands on the side, letting his friends drown under the spotlight, while he works in the shadows. The invisibility will turn into something more noticeable, too striking that you can't ever turn your eyes away from him. 

Like that one single dot in your paper. So small yet able to capture your attention every time.

There is no passerby on the bridge, only you and Suo stand there without a care in the world. No hush of wind catches your ears or the streaming river beneath the bridge. Everything falls silent, giving you a space to breathe and think.

“There you go again, belittle your feelings,” Suo reminds you, “It isn’t stupid.”

You pout. “Yeah, but it’s ridiculous. Laughable if other people hear it.”

Soft laughter falls between his lips. See? He proves your worry.

Suo’s features look delicate and untouchable, like an antique doll full of haunted rumors. You’re scared. The softness of his smile, gaze, and voice will go just like dust blows in the wind. He doesn't feel like a real person, just a faint memory of a stranger you would never believe if he didn't stand beside you, like right now. 

Suo is that fleeting feeling that lingers in your hand. You don't understand it, not in a short time, but you crave it.

Fear guides your hand to his sleeve, holding on to it really tight, like a lost child glued to a trusted adult. Suo looks confused, his earrings dangling while his head comes back to its normal position. 

One day, after the summer ends, every chat you have with Suo will be suddenly forgotten for years. The green “online” notification under his ID will vanish without any warning, leaving you wondering when he will come back. Without any “sorry” or “goodbye”, Suo will disappear from your life, making you question which part of you has pushed him away.

“Sweetheart–”

“I… I’m scared.” That word falls heavy from your tongue. “You feel like a summer ghost, but I know–our first meeting is not in that season, and yet,” your chest feels heavy too, “I feel like this will be our last summer.”

Suo blinks slowly. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” you shout very loud, making all the birds sit in the bridge’s fence fly away by surprise. “I don’t want to break up with you–Oh God, that sounds pathetic. That’s not the point!”

“I see, so you’re afraid I’ll disappear one day?” His gentle smile still stays. You frown slightly, trying to understand the hidden meaning beneath his smile, which is pointless because you never succeed in revealing his secrets. “That really is a silly thought.”

“I know, it’s dumb, I know. You’re not gonna get kidnapped like that, damn, those kidnappers are probably the one who screwed up messing with you. I just think–”

“Oh, I wasn’t mocking that.”

Now it’s your turn feeling confused.

Before another question drops, Suo swiftly moves towards you, pushing all the distance away. A light kiss falls to the corner of your lips. It feels subtle, but more visible, as if the spirit wants other people to see it, wants you to remember his touch alone. His invisible form slowly morphed into something more solid, until you couldn’t see through his body.  And just like that, he looks more human in your eyes; reachable, fragile, yet still mysterious.

Suo stays for awhile before pushing his head, giving back the distance you need to process what just happened.

“H-Huh?!” you yelp, touching the corner of your lips, feeling the warm heat creeping up slowly. A bright red spread like a black paint in white canvas. “W-What–What is wrong with you!”

“What am I to you?” Suo inquires, pushing your head to think of whatever answer to give.

“M-My boyfriend?”

Suo hums lightly, a satisfied grin tugging on his lips. Felt like a dream come true when you called him that. “That’s right, I’m your boyfriend. Do I feel like a ghost?”

You look down, realizing the tip of your feet touch his, then shake your head.

Sudden heavy fall beside your head. You peek from the corner of your eye, Suo lays his head to yours, fully realize how you blush furiously from the close proximity.

“Even if I disappear one day, I’ll find you again,” he says, full of meaning and emotion, giving no space for doubt filling your mind. “I can't bear the thought you’ll get into trouble if I’m not there to protect you.”

“What am I? A kid?” you snarl.

“Sometimes,” Suo laughs, stroking your hair with the side of his head, like a cat giving you a light head bump. “You’ll cry if we’re apart for too long.”

Embarrassing memory creeping up to your brain. In your middle school days, you bawled your eyes out seeing Suo after the winter vacation ended. Was it relief? Was it longing? You couldn’t understand your younger self suddenly crying while holding onto Suo sleeve, as if you’re afraid he's gone in an instant, just like what you’re feeling a moment ago.

Suo put that moment as his core memory. If he wasn't stuck in a daze, he would probably take a picture of your swollen eyes. You want to punch him.

“I won’t cry like that again.”

“You won’t? That’s unfortunate,” he mumbles, “Because I miss you too that day. It's nice to know I'm not the only one who felt that way too.”

The sudden confession makes you surprised, but you stay still for the sake of Suo resting on your side longer. 

“If one day I’ll disappear like a ghost, quoting from you, I’ll find a way to find you again.”

Your fingers intertwine with a subtle move from him. Summer evening feel a little warmer when Suo stays by your side. “Because you couldn’t bear to stay apart from me?”

Suo laughs quietly. “Yeah, I miss you easily, if you didn’t know that.” He leans even further into your warmth, very aware how your body starts leaning forward because of excessive heaviness. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, will you find me if I disappear one day?” Suo glances to your two thumbs playing together, going round-and-round in rhythmic movement to show your anxiety growing back at a slow pace. He takes both of your hands, giving a light squeeze of reassurance, and just like that your shoulder slacks in ease.

“Do-Do you want me to?” you stutter, doubtful tone in your voice could be heard. It’s been a long time since he heard you speak like that. It’s saddening to know you still see yourself that way; unwanted and alone.

Your shoulders tensed. "Please." A beat of silence. Then, a chuckle lighter than it should have been, but not unkind. "As you wish, little Faerie." A playful lilt, but no deceit in his words this time. "But don't keep me waiting too long." And with that, the weight of his presence receded, though you knew better than to believe he was truly gone. Finally, Elder Faerie spoke. “I had thought,” he murmured, “that I would never feel this kind of pain.” Your breath hitched. Elder Faerie exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “It is not the seal,” he continued. “Not the kingdom. Not even the danger you have released upon Earthbread.” His gaze, though lined with exhaustion, did not waver from you. “It is you that pains me most.” Your hands curled into trembling fists. “Elder Faerie, I-” “I will not allow you to be remembered this way,” he interrupted softly. His voice did not carry the weight of anger, but of something far worse. “Your name will not be tied to destruction. Not if I can help it.” You swallowed the lump in your throat near unbearable. He stepped closer, his presence casting a long shadow beneath the waning glow of the Silver Tree. “Even now,” he continued, quieter, “I cannot bring myself to hate you.” Your breath came sharp. “I should.” His voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “I should rage at you. I should curse your name, demand that you answer for what you have done.” His fingers tightened around his staff, his composure threatening to crack. “But I cannot.” Your vision blurred with unshed tears. “Then…then hate him.” Elder Faerie’s expression darkened, his free hand curling into a fist at his side. “I do.” The admission was quiet, restrained. “I loathe him for what he has taken. For what he has twisted.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then let out a slow breath. “But my hatred means nothing now. The seal is broken.”

Your body trembled. “Then we can fix it-” “No.” Elder Faerie’s voice was steady, though his eyes betrayed the weight he carried. “I can no longer fix it.” A pause. Then, more softly, “I have grown weaker over eons. The tree is no longer what it was.” Your breath came uneven. “But there has to be” “Do not dwell on it,” he interrupted, his voice gentle yet firm. “That is no longer your burden.” Your chest ached, torn between desperation and guilt. “But I” Elder Faerie reached out. His hand, despite everything, came to rest lightly against the side of your face. It was warm, grounding. A gesture of comfort. Of forgiveness. “I know you,” he whispered. “Better than you know yourself.” His fingers curled slightly, not in force, but in something fragile. “Your heart, your instinct, it has always been what guided you. It led you astray, but…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I do not believe it was ever meant to harm.” Your lips parted, but no words came. His gaze, softer than you deserved, held you captive. “Follow it, one last time.” The weight of his words settled deep in your chest. “Elder Faerie…” He gave the smallest of smiles, faint, tired. “Do not worry.” A pause. Then, quieter, “I will find a way.” The promise was as heavy as it was impossible. But even as he spoke it, you could see, could feel the pain beneath it. He blamed himself. For failing to guide you. For failing to save you. And even as he stood before you, speaking of hope, speaking of solutions his heart was breaking.

Tears blurred your vision, the fractured light of the Silver Tree casting a wavering glow over Elder Faerie’s grief-stricken face. His hand still rested against your cheek, warm despite the cold reality that had settled between you. You had broken the seal. You had shattered everything you had once vowed to protect. And yet, he stood there not condemning you, not striking you down, but aching for you. Your breath trembled as you whispered, “If I’m going to be remembered for this if they curse my name for what I’ve done then let them.” Your hands clenched at your sides. “You shouldn’t cover it up.” Elder Faerie’s expression flickered, but the sorrow in his eyes remained unmoving. “I chose this,” you continued, voice shaking but resolute. “Even if it’s wrong, even if I can’t take it back, I won’t let you erase it for me.” Your chest ached with every word. “I can own up to what I’ve done.” Elder Faerie exhaled slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment. When he opened them again, his sadness had not lessened, but his resolve had hardened. “No,” he said softly. “I will not let you bear this weight.” A sharp inhale stung your throat. “Why—” “Because you are still my kin.” His voice, though quiet, carried the finality of a thousand years. “Even now.” His fingers curled slightly against your skin before he withdrew his hand. A silence stretched between you, heavy with the truth neither of you wanted to face. Elder Faerie turned slightly, his gaze shifting beyond the ruined seal, beyond the Silver Tree that now stood vulnerable, its light waning. The Silver Knights still lingered, hesitant, awaiting orders that could no longer undo what had already been done. White Lily Cookie stood among them, her fuchsia eyes dark with sorrow.

With a weary sigh, Elder Faerie straightened his posture, the weight of leadership settling over him once more. “We are leaving.” Your breath hitched. “What?” “There is nothing left for us here.” His voice carried the burden of his decision. “The seal is broken. There is no longer a cage to protect.” He turned to you once more, his gaze firm. “I must protect my people instead.” A lump formed in your throat. “But Shadow Milk he’s-” “He is sparing the kingdom for you.” Elder Faerie’s voice, though not unkind, left no room for denial. “And that is not something I can gamble with. His mercy is not our salvation, it is a fleeting kindness.” His jaw tightened. “I will not allow unnecessary danger to fall upon my people.” The words sent a chill through you. “You mean to run?” “I mean to survive.” Elder Faerie’s eyes burned with determination. “I will not let our people fall, not while I still have the strength to lead them away from this.” Your lips parted, searching for words, searching for anything that could convince him otherwise. But what could you say? You had already chosen your path. Elder Faerie let out a quiet breath, stepping past you, back toward his people, the silver knights as the kingdom’s fate was unknown. “Stay if you must,” he said, the slightest waver in his voice betraying the pain beneath his resolve. “But I will not allow them to suffer for your decision.” The finality of his words settled over you like a crushing weight. And as he walked away, leading the remnants of the Faerie Kingdom into the shadows, you could do nothing but watch.

Your fingers twitched at your side, aching to reach out, to hold onto just a moment longer before he was gone. But you didn't. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and let your hand fall back to your side. Your wings trembled as you watched Elder Faerie retreat, his silhouette fading into the gathering darkness, his presence growing ever distant. Even now, he refused to hate you. Even now, he carried the weight of this loss as if it were his burden to bear instead of yours. Your chest ached. A whisper, barely above breath, slipped from your lips. “…Shadow Milk.” The wind curled around you, stirring the remnants of broken magic in the air, but you felt the shift almost instantly. A presence, cool and familiar, coiling around the edges of your senses. It seeped into the space beside you, unseen but undeniably there. “You called for me, little Faerie?” His voice was softer now, almost indulgent, as if savoring the way you sought him. Your eyes remained on the path where Elder Faerie had disappeared, but your fingers curled slightly as if grasping for something unseen. “Did I…” You swallowed, throat dry. “Did I do the right thing?”

A silence followed, but not an empty one. It was a silence considering, a silence that weighed your question like a game piece in hand. Then, Shadow Milk sighed, a sound both amused and something else you couldn’t decipher. “Ah, my dear, sweet thing… still seeking absolution?” His tone was almost fond. “Do you wish for me to ease your conscience?” You blinked hard, trying to clear the blur of your tears. “I don’t know what happens now.” Your voice was fragile, breaking at the edges. “What do I do?” A soft chuckle, curling with something unspoken. “Well,” Shadow Milk murmured, “you are free now.” That word free. It didn’t feel as weightless as it should have. You exhaled shakily. “Are the others…?” You hesitated, staring at the broken remnants of the seal. “Are they still dormant?” Shadow Milk’s response was slow, deliberate. “For now.” Your breath hitched. “When?” “When will I wake them?” His voice lilted, teasing, but you could feel the coil of something much sharper beneath it. You turned slightly, not quite facing him, but seeking him all the same. “Yes.” Shadow Milk hummed, considering. “Now, now… that would be spoiling the fun, wouldn’t it?” A chill curled around your spine. You could feel the amusement in his tone, but it was like a magician withholding the final reveal. A game he refused to lay bare. “Then… they’re still asleep?” you asked, almost hopeful. Shadow Milk laughed, a quiet, velvety sound. “Oh, little Faerie… you ask so many questions.” His voice lowered, curling at the edges of your mind. “Why not enjoy the moment? I am here, after all.” You let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t giving you answers. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “…Then what happens now?” Shadow Milk didn’t answer right away. Instead, you felt him shift, felt the weight of his presence settle closer, his words pressing against your ear like a secret. “Now?” He purred. “Now, we dance.”

You let out a short, breathless laugh, blinking up at the darkened sky. “You’re joking.” Shadow Milk only tilted his head or at least, you felt the shift of his presence, playful and indulgent. You shook your head, a wry smile ghosting over your lips despite everything. “Why dance?” He hummed, the sound rich and teasing, curling around you like silk. “Would you prefer I say something dreadfully serious?” His voice lilted with kindness, yet there was something almost intentional in his lightness, as if daring you to follow. “Or is it that you think a dance couldn’t possibly be fitting for the moment?” You crossed your arms, wings twitching. “Do you think that would cheer me up?” Your voice was softer than you meant it to be, not accusing just tired. “Or are you just trying to distract me from everything?” Shadow Milk chuckled. “Why, both, of course.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I own what I did,” you murmured. “I made my choice. I know that. But I’m not… happy about how I got here.” You hesitated, watching the remnants of the shattered seal glimmer faintly against the wind. “Shadow Milk… is this supposed to make it easier?”

Silence, for just a moment. Then, a whisper of a touch just the ghost of a presence brushing against your fingers, cold yet oddly inviting. “Dancing,” he mused, his voice dipping into something softer, “is not about forgetting.” A pause. “It’s about moving forward.” Your breath caught. “Would you rather stand still?” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “Would you rather dwell in misery, in self-loathing, in regret?” His tone dipped into something almost mocking not cruel, just coaxing. “Or would you rather live?” You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching slightly. “And dancing is living?” Shadow Milk exhaled a sigh, as if you were terribly, terribly slow. “Oh, my dear.” There was a smile in his voice now. “Dancing is simply another form of freedom.” You weren’t sure what to say to that. He waited, patient, ever-present. “…Do I have a choice?” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His chuckle curled against your ear like mist. “You always do.” The wind stirred. The air shifted. And then, like a hand extended into the dark, his presence curled around you once more. “Well?” Shadow Milk purred. “Shall we?”

The wind carried the last remnants of silver leaves across the ruined clearing, their shimmer dull beneath the weight of what had transpired. The once-sacred heart of the Faerie Kingdom lay fractured, the Silver Tree’s light all but extinguished. And yet, in the midst of the devastation, there he stood real, no longer just a voice in the dark. You had seen his real form before but you didn’t get a chance to take it all in. Maybe it was the way in the end, you and him had chosen each other. Shadow Milk Cookie was no longer a mere whisper in your mind, no longer a presence lurking just beyond reach. He was here, standing before you in full form, his tall, spindly frame draped in the harlequin darks of his bodysuit. His cyan and cerulean eyes glowed with something unreadable, flickering between amusement and something deeper. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, inviting. You hesitated. Now that you could truly see him, there was no excuse to hide behind the ambiguity of shadows. There was no veil of mystery, no plausible deniability. He was real, tangible, a force unshackled by the chains you had shattered with your own hands. And yet… he looked at you as if none of that mattered. "You hesitate," he mused, his voice dipping into a knowing lilt. “Shall I extend the invitation more sweetly? Should I bow? Kiss your hand? Or…” He leaned in slightly, a teasing glint in his mismatched eyes. “Perhaps you’d prefer I demand it? A grand decree, from your villain of choice.” You scoffed, shaking your head, forcing something close to amusement onto your face. “You really think this is going to fix everything?” Shadow Milk hummed, unbothered. “Oh, little Faerie, I never said that.” His fingers flexed slightly, a silent offer still waiting. “I simply said we should dance.”

You exhaled slowly, looking past him for just a moment. Beyond the clearing, hidden within the trees, a figure stood in the dim glow of the fractured remnants of the Silver Tree. Elder Faerie Cookie watched. His expression was unreadable, but his shoulders bore the weight of unspoken sorrow. He had sworn to erase you from the kingdom’s history, to protect you even as you had broken him. He would not allow you to be remembered as a villain but it didn’t change the truth. He had already lost you. Perhaps he had lost you long before this moment. Your fingers twitched at your side. The ache in your chest burned, sharp and unrelenting. You could not go back. Not after this. Not even if he forgave you. The Faerie Kingdom was no longer yours, no longer a place that would welcome you with open arms. Perhaps, it never truly had. You let out a breathy laugh, hollow but deceptively lighthearted. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, lifting your gaze back to Shadow Milk. His smile stretched into something terribly pleased. “Mmm. Yet you always come back” You swallowed. Your hands trembled, just barely. Then, before you could stop yourself, you reached forward and placed your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours instantly, cold yet steady, grounding in a way that sent a shiver up your spine. He grinned, sharp and triumphant, but there was something else in his eyes, something that wasn’t quite mockery, wasn’t quite gloating. Something softer.

Shadow Milk did not rush you. He did not sweep you into some grand, theatrical motion. Instead, he took a single step closer, his free hand resting lightly against your waist, guiding you gently into place. And then, the dance began. The broken clearing became your stage. Shadow Milk moved with effortless grace, leading you through slow, deliberate steps, his body curling and twisting with the natural showmanship of an entertainer who knew his craft well. His coattails swirled like dark silk, the eyes within them blinking lazily in time with the movements. You followed, your feet lighter than you had expected, though your heart remained unbearably heavy. “So,” you said after a moment, feigning nonchalance, “what do I get for playing along with your little show?” Shadow Milk smirked. “Ah, so you do know how to play.” “Answer the question.” He hummed, pretending to think. “You get to forget, for a moment.” He twirled you with ease, letting you spiral before catching you again, his grip firm yet never forceful. “You get to pretend, just as I do. Isn’t that what you wanted?” You hated how easy it was to let yourself fall into the rhythm. Hated how the weight in your chest eased, if only slightly, as the world blurred around you in a slow waltz of shadow and silver light. Maybe you did want to pretend. Maybe deceit was all you had left. From the distance, Elder Faerie Cookie still watched, his expression unreadable, his grief buried beneath the stoicism of a ruler who had no choice but to move forward. But even as he turned away, retreating into the forest to gather what was left of his people, his heart ached with the bitter knowledge that, at the very least, You had chosen this.

The world outside your musicless dance had long since begun to fade. The broken clearing, the Silver Tree’s dying glow, the ghosts of the past that still lingered behind them it all blurred into irrelevance. The only thing left was the steady twirl of shadow and movement, the quiet rhythm that only the two of them could hear. But even as your feet moved in time with his, even as the air between you became lighter with each step, the weight in your chest never truly lifted. There was still something you needed to know. Your fingers curled slightly against his as you exhaled, steadying yourself. “Why me?” Shadow Milk tilted his head, mismatched eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, and here I thought you had already figured it out.” You shook your head, gaze steady despite the hesitance twisting in your gut. “Did you always feel this way? Or was it because I could free you?”

For the first time, Shadow Milk faltered. It was barely a flicker a momentary pause in his movement, a beat of silence too brief to be intentional. And then he laughed, soft and lilting, his grip on you tightening just slightly as he resumed his steps. “Would it truly matter?” he mused, spinning you once more before catching you again. “You were the only one who could hear me. The only one who listened.” His voice dipped, something unreadable in the way he regarded you now. “That was all it took.” Your throat felt tight. “That’s not an answer.” Shadow Milk only smiled. Your gaze searched his face, looking for something, some hint of truth, some crack in the performance. But he was as unreadable as ever, his expression locked in the same knowing amusement that had always defined him. Maybe he didn’t even know the answer himself. Maybe you didn’t want to hear it. You swallowed, forcing yourself to breathe through the weight in your chest. “Where are we going after all this?” He hummed, seemingly pleased by your acceptance of the change in subject. “The Spire of Knowledge.”

Your brow furrowed. “The Spire…?” You hesitated, something about the name tugging at old memories. “That was your domain.” Shadow Milk’s grin stretched wider. “Was being the key word.” He twirled you again, slower this time, deliberate. “It was once a place of truth. Of wisdom, enlightenment a monument to Knowledge itself.” He leaned in slightly, voice dipping to a whisper against your ear. “But truth is such a fragile thing, isn’t it?” You shivered, but not from fear. He pulled back, mismatched eyes glinting with something dangerously pleased. “It is only fitting that it becomes something new.” Your stomach twisted. “What do you mean?” “The Spire of Deceit.” His voice was soft, but the weight of the words made the air around you feel colder. “More befitting of who I am now than what I once was.” A chill ran through you, not from his words alone, but from the way he said them. There was no hesitation, no regret only a quiet certainty. Your gaze flickered downward. This is what I chose. There was no going back. Shadow Milk shifted slightly, his grip on your hand loosening just enough to give you an out—to let you step away, if you wanted. But you didn’t. Your fingers remained laced with his, your body still moving with his lead, even as doubt clawed at your ribs. From the distance, beyond the ruins of the Silver Tree, the Faerie Kingdom lay shrouded in the veil of deceit Shadow Milk had cast. You couldn’t see Elder Faerie anymore. You didn’t know if he had left or if he simply no longer watched. But it didn’t matter. Your world had already changed.

The realization settled in slowly, like ink bleeding into parchment.  

If you had stayed, if you had remained the Silver Tree’s guardian, you would have never been free. Not truly. Even if you had fought off the whispers, resisted temptation, devoted yourself wholly to the kingdom… the chains of duty would have remained. You would have always been at war with the shadows. Always peering over your shoulder, waiting for the next deceit to creep in and sink its claws into you.  But now?   Now, there was nothing left to guard. The Silver Tree no longer bound you. Everything comes at a price. Perhaps this was yours. As the dance slowed, you finally allowed yourself to breathe. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of duty no longer suffocated your ribs, no longer dictated every action, every thought. You were unshackled. And yet, even in this newfound freedom, you found yourself searching for something, some lingering trace of what had once been.  

Your gaze flickered back to Shadow Milk. His expression was unreadable, though amusement still curled at the edges of his lips. He had won. He knew it. But there was no gloating, no smug declarations of victory. He simply watched you, waiting. You hesitated, then spoke. “What was it like?”  His brow arched. “What was what like?”  Your grip on his hand tightened slightly. “Being the Sage of Truth. Before… all of this.”  For the first time since his freedom, Shadow Milk was silent.  The air between you grew still, the weight of your question settling over the space like a thick mist. His grip did not falter, but something in his posture shifted just slightly. The ever-present playfulness in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something quieter, something distant. “…Ah,” he murmured, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to ask. He exhaled, gaze flickering skyward. “It was…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. Your heart twisted.  It was rare to see him hesitate. Shadow Milk was never at a loss for words, always weaving truths and lies together so seamlessly that one could never tell where reality ended and illusion began. But now? Now he looked as though he were peering through a fogged window, trying to recall a reflection that had long since faded.Finally, he spoke. “It was lonely.”  

Your breath caught. His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if anchoring himself to the present. “Truth is a bitter thing. Everyone claims to seek it, to crave knowledge, to desire understanding. But in the end…” He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “They only want the truths that comfort them. The rest?” His fingers brushed against yours, slow and deliberate. “They discard. They turn away. They call it cruel, monstrous even when it is simply reality.”  His mismatched eyes met yours, glinting with something almost unreadable. “That is why they chose him over me.” You knew who he meant. Pure Vanilla Cookie. Your lips parted, but you found yourself at a loss. What could you even say?  Shadow Milk smiled, but it was different this time. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just… tired. “I thought I could endure it. I thought I could bear the burden alone.” His voice softened. “But even the strongest of foundations can crumble beneath the weight of solitude.” The ache in your chest deepened. He had been a Sage. A beacon of truth. A pillar of wisdom. And yet, in the end, he had been left alone. The realization settled into your bones, heavy and undeniable. Even now, he does not regret it. He had embraced his role as Deceit wholeheartedly, had cast aside his past identity without hesitation. But deep down beneath the layers of illusion, beneath the theatrics and cunning smiles there was still something lingering. Something forgotten. You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself. “…Do you miss it?” Shadow Milk blinked.  

Then, slowly, he tilted his head, as if pondering the question himself. “No,” he said at last. “Not in the way you think.” His thumb traced absent circles against your palm. “Truth may be a virtue, but deceit…?” A soft, amused hum left his lips. “Deceit is freedom.” Your breath hitched.  He smiled, tilting your chin up slightly with a single finger. “And now, my dear… you are free too.” The words sent a shiver down your spine. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the ruins of the Silver Tree, the winds carried away the last remnants of what once was.

Shadow Milk Cookie let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he lifted a hand to your face. His touch was featherlight, fingertips brushing just beneath your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his own mismatched eyes one bright and knowing, the other dark and unreadable.

"Tsk, tsk. Don’t do that," he murmured, his tone somewhere between amused and admonishing. "I am no wounded creature, no broken thing in need of fixing." His smile curved, sharp yet indulgent, as if he found the very thought amusing. "You know better than that, don’t you?" You swallowed thickly, unsure of how to respond. He only chuckled again, as though your silence confirmed something. Then, without another word, he turned, leading you forward away from the ruins of what had been, toward something unknown.

The path to the Spire of Deceit was unlike any you had ever walked before. The air shimmered, thick with an otherworldly presence, as if the very fabric of reality had begun to unravel and weave itself anew. The sky overhead was deep, dark indigo, fractured with veins of silver light that pulsed like the slow, steady heartbeat of something ancient. The world around you twisted and bent, landmasses floating in impossible formations, staircases spiraling into the void only to reappear elsewhere. Then, you saw it. The Spire. It rose from the shifting landscape like an unshaken pillar amidst chaos, its towering, jagged peaks reaching toward infinity. The structure was built from dark stone that gleamed like polished onyx, lined with veins of cerulean light that pulsed and flickered in rhythm with the strange magic saturating the air. Bridges hung suspended in midair, leading to archways that seemed to vanish the moment you blinked, shifting as though alive. The very walls breathed, curling with elaborate carvings that reshaped themselves when you turned away. Despite its eerie, twisting nature, the Spire was… breathtaking. Shadow Milk turned slightly, watching you take it in, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "Ah, there it is," he mused. "That look of wonder—untainted, unburdened." He gestured broadly, the extravagant flourish of a performer unveiling his grand stage. "It was once the Spire of Knowledge, a haven for scholars and seekers of truth. But knowledge is a fickle thing, is it not?" His smirk deepened. "Now, it is something far more fitting." The Spire of Deceit.

A home for him. A home, now, for you. And before you even realized it, your feet had already found their way toward one place the library. Though you had a feeling he could control the spire’s illusions at will and was the guiding hand towards the library. The moment you stepped through its towering archway, the air shifted. A quiet hum filled the vast chamber, the sound of countless floating tomes drifting through open space, their pages fluttering despite the lack of wind. Shelves stretched impossibly high, their ends lost to shadow. Rivers of ink cascaded in midair, suspended in time, forming words that rewrote themselves before dissolving once more. The scent of parchment, old and new, mingled with something more something ancient, something lost.

Your fingers trailed instinctively along the spine of a floating tome, drawn by the same hunger that had always burned within you. Even now after everything your curiosity refused to wane. "You are predictable," Shadow Milk murmured, his voice a soft tease as he leaned lazily against the edge of a nearby desk. "Not even a moment to mourn the past, and already, you dive into what lies ahead." His mismatched gaze glinted with something akin to approval. You exhaled a quiet breath, scanning the text in your hands. "It was always about learning," you admitted. "Even when I was meant to inherit the role of Guardian… I think I cared more about the knowledge than the duty itself." Shadow Milk tilted his head, watching you with unreadable amusement. "Duty is an illusion an expectation forced upon you," he mused. "Knowledge, however… that is a choice. Your choice." His words curled around you, sinking into the quiet recesses of your mind. Yet, even as they settled, uncertainty still gnawed at you. And so, the question left your lips before you could stop it. "If there had been another heir… if someone else had been chosen to guard the Silver Tree…" Your voice faltered, but you pushed through. "Would it still have been me?"

Would he still have sought you out? Would he still be here, beside you? Would you still matter? Shadow Milk stilled. For a moment, the silence between you was thick, pressing. His expression gave nothing away, his mismatched eyes locked onto yours, searching. Then, he moved. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His presence curled around you, dark and velvety, his voice a low murmur against the hush of the library. "You ask as though there was ever another choice." Your breath hitched. His fingers brushed beneath your chin once more, tilting your face up toward his. There was no trickery in his gaze, no jest in his tone only certainty. "Even if the stars had aligned differently, even if fate had woven another path… I would have found you." His voice dipped lower, the words sinking deep into your chest. "And I would have chosen you." Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. Truth or deception? You weren’t sure. But in that moment, as you stood in the vast, ever-shifting halls of the Spire of Deceit—beneath the glow of floating ink and the hum of knowledge long lost—none of it seemed to matter. Because, for the first time in what felt like forever, you had chosen this, too. And perhaps… that was enough.

The air in the Spire of Deceit was still, as if the very walls were waiting to hear your answer. The halls, lined with towering bookshelves and twisting staircases, seemed to stretch endlessly into the abyss, their winding paths mirroring the labyrinth of emotions inside you. The knowledge here was vast, unshackled, and tainted by neither truth nor lies just as he was. Shadow Milk Cookie stood before you, his presence inescapable. His mismatched eyes gleamed with something unreadable, watching as you struggled with words too heavy to speak. The quiet between you was suffocating, yet he seemed content to let you drown in it, his expression unreadable waiting. You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’ll stay,” you finally breathed, and the moment the words left your lips, something inside you shifted, solidified. “I already chose you.” His smirk faltered for the briefest second. Barely noticeable. But you caught it. His thumb grazed your cheek, an almost hesitant touch, before his fingers settled beneath your chin, tilting your head up. His touch was cold, yet it burned. “You choose me,” he mused, more to himself than to you. His voice was softer now, lacking its usual theatrical flourish, as if the weight of your words had settled somewhere deep within him.

“I do,” you whispered. His grip on you tightened just slightly. But then, you continued. “But I don’t want to be part of destruction.” Your voice trembled, but you forced yourself forward. “I won’t fight against what’s already happened. I chose this. I’ll bear it. But I won’t… I won’t let it go further. I can’t. I won’t break Elder Faerie’s heart any more than I already have.” Silence. Shadow Milk Cookie simply stared at you, unreadable. Then, he laughed. Softly, breathlessly almost disbelieving. His hand fell from your chin, but the air between you remained electric, thick with something unspoken. “You think,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement, “that you can stand beside me and remain untouched by what I do?” “I have to try,” you said, voice shaking. His smirk widened, but his expression and his eyes were darker now. “You are a fool,” he said, and there was no mockery in his tone. “Maybe.” His fingers ghosted over your wrist, lingering there, as if he was debating something. “Then answer me this,” he murmured, tilting his head. “If I were to refuse? If I told you that you must embrace the world I intend to create?” Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, but you stood firm. “Then I will go.” Something in his expression flickered. You didn’t know if it was amusement. Annoyance. Pain. Then, he exhaled slow and deliberate. The hand on your wrist slid towards your hand, his fingers curling loosely around your own. His grip was gentle, but firm, as if testing your resolve. “You would leave me,” he mused, voice soft, “after everything?” A lump formed in your throat. “If you make me,” you whispered. Another silence stretched between you. Then, unexpectedly his grip tightened. He didn’t let go. A low, knowing chuckle escaped him, but it wasn’t his usual laughter. No mockery. No theatrics. Instead, something deeper settled behind his mismatched eyes, something indulgent, something dangerously close to tenderness.

"You truly are something else," he murmured, his voice almost… fond. And then, he leaned in. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “Very well.” The tension in your chest loosened just slightly. His fingers dragged upwards on your arm before finally slipping away, giving you space. And yet, his presence coiled around you like an inescapable shadow. “I won’t force you to take part in my grand designs,” he continued. “Not yet, at least.” His smirk twitched at your sharp look. "But" His hand lifted in a careless flourish, his voice returning to its usual lilting amusement. "I will ask for something in return.” Your stomach twisted.“What?” He leaned back, watching you with knowing eyes. "Stay." One, simple request. No tricks. No riddles. Just that. Your heart ached at the simplicity of it. At the weight of it. You had thrown everything away for him. Your home. Your legacy. The love of the only father figure you had ever known. And yet here he was. The one thing in this world you could never predict. A monster draped in silk and illusions, deceit curled upon his tongue like honey. And yet he had never lied about what he was. The choice was yours. Your throat tightened. “I…” Your voice cracked. You exhaled. “…I will.” Shadow Milk Cookie only smiled. It was not triumphant. It was not victorious. It was satisfied. As if he had always known you would say yes. His fingers brushed against yours once more so fleetingly, so carefully, that for a moment, you wondered if you had imagined it. Then, his presence pulled away, and the air grew heavier once more.

"You do amuse me," he mused, the playfulness creeping back into his tone, though something else lingered beneath it. "But know this, dear, my path has already been paved. My plans, my pact, are not yours to break.” A cold shiver ran down your spine. He turned, walking toward the towering windows of the spire, where the fractured sky bled into the horizon. "You wished for kindness, and I have granted it," he continued. "For you, I have spared them…for now." He turned slightly, casting a glance over his shoulder, his grin sharp as a knife. "But do not mistake that for weakness, my dear. My destruction has already been written. You simply are not part of its ink." 

Days in the spire were mainly mundane Shadow Milk was never too busy for you, however he was still scheming never letting you see his plans. Maybe it was for your own good. The halls of the Spire of Deceit wound like a labyrinth, towering shelves stacked with books whose truths had long since been twisted beyond recognition. It was neither day nor night here, just an eternal limbo where time bled into itself, much like the lines between truth and deception. The wind curled through the open halls of the Spire of Deceit, carrying with it the scent of aged parchment and something faintly sweet, like the last traces of a dream before waking. Shadow Milk Cookie stood before the grand window, his silhouette dark against the star-streaked sky. The view stretched endlessly, a world waiting to be rewritten.  You lingered at the threshold, watching him, waiting. He was always so unreadable, so infuriatingly composed, yet today… today felt different. He turned his head slightly. “If you have something to say, little Faerie, say it.” You swallowed. “Why me?” you had always asked this, asked yourself, asked him. You wouldn’t stop not until you got a concrete answer. That question always made him pause. You pressed on, stepping closer, your voice steady despite the weight in your chest. “From the moment you saw me at the tree, why did it have to be me? Was it just because I could release you?” Shadow Milk did not answer immediately. He exhaled slowly, his fingers trailing along the glass of the window before he finally turned to face you fully. His heterochromatic eyes gleamed in the dim light, the ever-watching shadows in his hair blinking lazily. “When I first saw you,” he mused, “when I could finally see beyond that wretched bark I thought you naïve.” His gaze flickered with something unreadable. “Entertaining, yes. But hopelessly foolish.” A smirk curled at his lips, but there was no mockery in it. “Enough to make me want to keep watching.”

You blinked. “Watching?”

His gaze flickered, and he took a step forward, closer than before. “When the seal weakened, and I could see through the bark of that cursed tree, you were the first thing I laid eyes upon.” His voice dropped to something softer, something almost dangerous in its honesty. “And I could not look away.” Your breath caught in your throat. “And it didn’t take long before I found myself waiting,” he admitted, voice dipping into something almost vulnerable. “For your voice. For your questions. For your presence.” His mismatched eyes locked onto yours. “My patience has never been my strong suit, but for you? I endured.”

“I told myself it was strategy,” he continued, tilting his head as though studying you. “That it was only a matter of finding the right strings to pull, the right lies to whisper. But the more I watched, the more you became something else.” A hand reached out, brushing barely against your cheek before he pulled away, as if catching himself. “I don’t shackle easily,” he murmured. “And yet, somehow, you’ve bound me without a single chain.” His fingers grazed yours, barely touching, his voice dropping lower. “And when you did set me free… I realized that my shackles had never been made of wood or magic.” His lips twitched into something wry, something resigned. “They were made of you.” Your heart pounded. “Then… you would do as I ask?” Shadow Milk chuckled, the sound dark and rich. “Anything,” he said smoothly, “except abandon my purpose.” A chill settled over you. “The Beasts.” His smirk did not falter. “The pact I made with them was never yours to undo.”

Your throat tightened, a familiar ache clawing at your ribs. You had known—perhaps you had always known—that some things were beyond your reach. And yet, here he stood before you, offering everything but that. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “Then what am I to you?” Shadow Milk leaned in ever so slightly, his mismatched eyes sharp with something unreadable. “You,” he said, voice a whisper against your skin, “are the only thing I choose to keep.” The words settled deep in your bones. There was no deception in them, no half-truths. And perhaps that was what frightened you mostYour chest tightened at the weight of his words. But you had to ask. “And if I walk away?” His smirk was immediate. “Then I shall follow.” You frowned. “And if I run?” His eyes darkened with amusement. “Then I shall chase.” You let out a quiet, shaky laugh, shaking your head. “You speak of me as though I belong to you.” “Don’t you?” The question hung in the air between you, heavier than any spell, more binding than any seal. You thought of the Silver Tree, of Elder Faerie Cookie’s pained expression as he turned away from you for the last time. Of the home you had lost, of the kingdom that would pretend you never existed. You thought of how, despite it all, you did not regret it. Because the truth was, you had always been running. From duty. From expectation. From a life that had never truly been your own. And now, at last, there was no need to run. Not when you stood before the one who had always seen you. Swallowing, you met his gaze fully. “And what now?” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled, slow and knowing, taking your hand in his. “Now?” He leaned in, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Now, we rewrite the world.”

“Into what, a decent human being?” you ask, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Ace rolls his eyes again but leans closer, his expression strangely serious now. “Look, I’m just trying to... I dunno, be more... considerate.”

You squint at him, not buying it for a second. “Why? Who put you up to this?”

Ace huffs, running a hand through his hair, his face growing a little red. “No one put me up to anything, alright? I just thought... maybe you’d like it.”

Your mouth opens, then shuts. You’re not sure what to make of that.

“What?” Ace asks, noticing your bewildered expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I’m just... processing. You’re being nice because you think I’d like it?”

He shrugs, averting his gaze now. “Yeah, well... you’ve been giving me a hard time lately, so I figured, why not? You know, mix things up. Be nice for a change.”

“Uh-huh.” You narrow your eyes, suspicion creeping back in. “But... why me?”

Ace avoids eye contact, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his collar. “Does it matter? Just... shut up and let me be nice, okay?”

You stare at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what’s going on in that mischievous head of his. Finally, you let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Fine. But I’m still convinced you’re up to something.”

Ace smirks, the cheeky glint returning to his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Over the next few days, Ace continues acting suspiciously... well, nice. He doesn’t trip you in the hallway or throw random jabs at your study habits like usual. He even brings you snacks during lunch—without eating half of them first.

It’s weird. Unsettling, even.

And every time you ask him about it, he brushes it off with a nonchalant “just felt like it” or “don’t read too much into it, Prefect.” But his little quirks keep poking through. Like when he sneaks up behind you, pretending he’s going to scare you, only to offer a helping hand with your bag. Or when he gives Deuce a hard time, only to turn around and cover for him when he forgets his homework.

Deuce, for his part, seems equally as confused. “Is he dying or something?” Deuce whispers to you one afternoon. “He’s not usually this nice unless he’s pulling something.”

“I know, right?” you whisper back, eyeing Ace from across the courtyard where he’s currently chatting with a group of students. “It’s unnatural.”

“He even let me borrow his notes last night,” Deuce continues, shaking his head. “His good notes, too. Not the ones he scribbled in crayon to mess with me.”

“Okay, now I’m seriously concerned,” you mutter. “He’s definitely plotting something.”

But the more time passes, the less it feels like a trick. There’s no punchline, no grand reveal. Ace is just... being Ace, albeit in a more considerate, slightly awkward way.

One evening, you’re leaving the library when you spot Ace waiting for you outside, leaning against a wall with his usual lazy posture. He looks up as you approach, flashing you a casual grin.

“Yo, Prefect,” he calls out. “Need help with your stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow, adjusting the books in your arms. “Are you really offering, or are you about to ‘accidentally’ trip me again?”

Ace chuckles, pushing off the wall and walking over to take some of the books from you. “What, you don’t trust me by now? I’ve been an absolute angel lately.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem,” you retort, but you let him take the books anyway. “You’ve been too nice. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Ace smirks, walking beside you as you head toward Ramshackle. “Maybe I’m just growing up. Becoming a responsible, dependable guy.”

You snort. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“Hey!” Ace protests, nudging you with his elbow. “I’m serious. I can be responsible when I want to.”

You side-eye him. “Sure. And pigs can fly.”

Ace rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft smile on his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one.”

The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, the moonlight casting long shadows on the cobblestone path. It’s peaceful, almost... nice.

Then, out of nowhere, Ace speaks again, his tone quieter this time. “So... you really think I’ve been weird lately?”

You glance at him, surprised by the question. “Yeah, kinda. Why?”

He shrugs, looking up at the sky. “I dunno. Just curious.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you seriously still playing this ‘nice guy’ act? What’s your angle, Ace?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stops walking, turning to face you with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“There’s no angle,” he says softly. “I just... wanted to see if it’d make a difference.”

You blink, caught off guard by his sudden sincerity. “What do you mean?”

Ace rubs the back of his neck, looking unusually nervous. “I mean... I’ve been trying to... y’know, be a better person. For you.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the fact that he’s actually being vulnerable for once. “For me?”

Ace avoids your gaze, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. I figured... maybe if I stopped being such a jerk all the time, you’d... I dunno... like me more.”

You stare at him, your mind racing to process what he’s saying. “Wait. Are you... confessing to me?”

Ace scowls, clearly embarrassed now. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. You’re making it weird.”

“You’re the one making it weird!” you shoot back, feeling your face heat up. “I didn’t ask you to go all soft on me!”

Ace glares at you, but there’s no real malice behind it. “Well, excuse me for trying to be nice for once.”

There’s a beat of silence as the two of you stand there, staring at each other, before you both start laughing.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, shaking your head.

"Yeah, but you hang out with me anyway," Ace finishes with that signature smirk of his.

You roll your eyes, but there's no denying the truth in his words. There's something about his brash honesty, his ability to keep things light even when they're serious, that you can't help but be drawn to. His quick wit, the way he keeps you on your toes—it's always been part of his charm.

"Maybe I do," you admit, crossing your arms and giving him a playful look. "But you're still a jerk sometimes."

Ace grins wider, stepping a little closer. "Oh, I'm totally a jerk. But I think that's why we work so well. You need someone to challenge you, and I need someone to keep me in check."

You snort. "So that's why you've been weird? Trying to impress me?"

Ace shrugs, his gaze softening just a bit. "Something like that. I just... didn't want you to think I'm always messing around. Sometimes, I actually want to be serious."

It's strange hearing him say that, but in a way, it makes sense. You've always known there was more to Ace than the mischievous, carefree front he puts up. He's clever and observant, and maybe—just maybe—he's been paying attention to you in ways you hadn't realized.

"So, what now?" you ask, feeling the tension between you shift from playful to something a little more... real.

Ace takes a breath, glancing up at the stars for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I dunno. Guess I was hoping you'd say something like... 'I like you too, Ace.'"

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "And what if I do?"

His eyes widen, just for a second, before his cocky grin returns in full force. "Well, then that'd be great. 'Cause I'd say I like you too, Prefect"

You both stand there for a moment, the air between you charged with something new and exciting. It’s not the usual back-and-forth banter, not the endless teasing. This is real, and Ace’s normally confident posture seems just a little unsure, like he’s still figuring out how to navigate this new territory.

"Alright, fine," you say, your voice softer now. "I like you, Ace."

He blinks, clearly taken aback that you actually said it. For once, he's the one who seems at a loss for words.

"...You serious?" he asks, sounding almost vulnerable. It's a rare thing to hear from him, and it tugs at your heart just a little.

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Yeah. I mean, you've been acting all weird and nice, and it kind of freaked me out, but... I get it now. And I like you too."

Ace lets out a relieved breath, his grin softening into something more genuine. "Well, that's good. 'Cause I was starting to run out of ways to be nice. It’s exhausting."

You laugh, the tension finally breaking as the two of you slip back into the ease that’s always existed between you. But now, there's something more. Something deeper.

"So," you start, tilting your head at him, "does this mean you're going to stop being a jerk to me?"

Ace snorts. "Nah, that’s part of my charm. Besides, you’d get bored if I went all soft."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. "Fair enough."

Without warning, Ace reaches out and ruffles your hair, grinning like a kid who’s just won a prize. "You know, you're not too bad. Maybe we can make this thing work."

You swat his hand away, laughing. "Maybe. If you stop being so weird."

"Deal," Ace says, though you can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s already planning his next prank.

Deuce, who’s been watching the whole thing from a distance, finally decides to pipe up, calling out to the two of you from the other side of the courtyard. “Hey! Did you guys seriously just confess? In front of me?”

Ace turns around and shouts back, “Yeah, what of it?”

Deuce groans, looking exasperated. “Couldn’t you have waited until I wasn’t around to witness that?”

“You’re just jealous!” Ace calls, slinging an arm around your shoulders with a triumphant grin.

Deuce rolls his eyes but grins anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go getting all mushy on me.”

Ace laughs, giving you a sidelong glance. “No promises.”

And as you walk back toward the dorms, Ace’s arm still around you, you can’t help but smile. It’s a weird, unexpected kind of happiness, but somehow, it fits. Just like Ace.

🦐 yuur_grace

❤️ 23.2k 🗨️ 2.3k 🔄 442

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 Decided to pay our octobuddy a little visit at the @mostrolounge this afternoon 🐙🍹What a face! (also, wow where did all of you come from?? Was Leona's sleeping visage that baffling of a prospect? ùᴗu,, actually, I'm now realizing that I hadn't even set this account to private...oops.)

🐬 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁𝘀.𝗮.𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗮𝘆 ahahah!! oh man look at his face! little shrimpy's got guts~

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 thanks for being the cameraman buddy ùᴗu ͙͘͡★ 7 replies

❤️ 𝗮𝗰𝗲_𝗼𝗳𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 I'm surprised you didn't get ptsd just from walking into that room LMAO

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @ace_ofhearts hm okay how about you join me next time

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬❤️ 𝗮𝗰𝗲_𝗼𝗳𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 @yuur_grace no thank you <3

🐬 𝗷𝗮𝗱𝗲.𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗰𝗵. hahah. how swift. perhaps i may join you one day to capture such riveting images. 3 replies

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 ok no I'm actually so invested we can't just move on from the fact that this guy showed up all of a sudden and just KNOWS Leona kingscholar personally?!?? 200 replies

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎.𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲

❤️ 530.5k 🗨️ 221k 🔄 138k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 Another face cradled! And a dear friend hugged! Had a blast at this wonderful get-together in Scarabia dorm ☀️🏮🎇 I think I'm ready to sleep for a week though hahaha ^^;

☀️ 𝗸𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗺✪ I'm so glad you came! I don't think I've had that much fun with friends in a while! You're always welcome whenever you feel like visiting 😊✨

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬ 🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @kalimalasim always!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬ 🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME 1240 replies

🐍 𝗷𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹_𝘃 There's still some leftovers if you'd like to take some for Grim. Or yourself, really. 2 replies

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 oh okay so there's even MORE. why not. SURE. 212 replies

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎.𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲

❤️ 970.6k 🗨️ 596.3k 🔄 502k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 Nothing better than a long evening spent with the beauty queen himself @vilshoenheit. And look, he reciprocated! How sweet~ 💜✨ A wonderful idol, an even better friend.

👑 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗲𝗶𝘁✪ How precious. Do take good care of that manicure.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬👑 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗲𝗶𝘁 Wait, Grace, is this a private post?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 will do! 🤍 2304 replies

🍎 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗹_𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗺𝗶𝗲𝗿 man you're better than me, i can't stand a second doin any a this balderdash

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 your loss,, it's sooo relaxing 🙂‍↕️

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 YOU GUYS I CANT COPE ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEE 784 replies

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 is this guy some sorta undercover cop or sum?? how's he got all these crazy ass ties??

🏹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗵𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗸 oh, là là... quelle beauté, the calm before the storm~

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎.𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲

❤️ 60.3k 🗨️ 43.4k 🔄 22.5k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 Seems like I've been graced with this nice little picture from @0r1h0_shr0ud2 during a visit to Idia's dorm! No face hold unfortunately, but it's quite cute!🩵🤍 Very rare, it seems Idia has yet to realize the photo being taken ^o^. Peep the adorable little PreMo gacha figure I got for him...? 👀

🩵 𝟬𝗿𝟭𝗵𝟬_𝘀𝗵𝗿𝟬𝘂𝗱𝟮 I was so happy that you decided to stay and keep my brother company, Grace Alexander-san. Idia doesn't show it, but you really made his day!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @0r1h0_shr0ud2 awww! I'm always happy to spend time with you both! 🤍 3 replies

💙 𝗴𝗹𝟬𝟬𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗶 woah when was this?! you can't just spring such a rare event out of nowhere! delete, delete!!! 5 replies

♦️ 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗱_𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 oh my Seven!! you both look so dope! truly inspiring— and can we talk about how *adorbs* you look with that biscuit hanging from ur mouth?? (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @diamond_mind brothaaaa keep this up and you'll be fighting off rumors for days LOL ùᴗu ahuahu

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬❤️ 𝗮𝗰𝗲_𝗼𝗳𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 @yuur_grace OH U WANNA HEAR ABOUT RUMORS??? HAHAH

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 Am I tweaking or is that like. *The* Idia Shroud from the family Shroud part of the largest technological pioneers in Twisted Wonderland. Or am I insane.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 this HAS to be a social experiment atp?? What in the world is this guy's power??? 467 replies

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎.𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲

❤️ 2.1m 🗨️ 740.3k 🔄 680k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 it felt almost special, leaving my vest off. Maybe it was the winter breeze. Tsunotaro helped me with his cape, though, despite my insistence. What a sweet personality! 💚🐉 We took a long walk through an abandoned woods, found some gorgeous gargoyles. To end my little series, I asked to hold him as well. He doesn't own a magicam account so I can't tag him... But at least he can keep the pictures :) Hurray! It ends! 🤍✨

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 THERE IS NOOOOO FUCKING WAY I REFUSE NO NO ABSOLUTELY NO WAY THIS IS AN EVIL PRANK WHAT WHAT WHATTTTATSYSYTHJDHJ WHO IS THIS GUYYYYYY 1204 replies

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 OH YES DROP THE BOMB ON US WHY NOT. OKAY. THREE OTHER CELEBS WEREN'T ENOUGH I GUESS. 762 replies

🦇 𝘃𝗮𝗻𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗲𝗲 Grace, you must know I have never been so entertained in my long life. Why, Malleus himself sits beside me and stares down at the screen in bafflement!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @vanrougee ???? Explain?? ToT

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬♦️ 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗱_𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 @yuur_grace you sweet summer child 😭✋

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬ 🐊 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴.𝘇𝗶𝗴𝗯𝗼𝗹𝘁 @yuur_grace YOU ARE ENTIRELY UNCONNIVING. YOU PLACE MALLEUS UNDER INTENSE SCRUTINY FROM THE MASSES AS WELL AS LADY MALEFICIA! YOU SHOULD BE MORE MINDFUL, HUMAN!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 OH my god.

It was a legacy in your family to be horrible at city parking.

One of your earliest memories was in the backseat of a rental car in a foreign country while your mother tried to park on the side of the street, only to get honked at by cars and drive against the flow of vehicles in a one-way zone. 

A bag of groceries lie in the trunk of your car as you drive to your family’s home. Humming along to the song softly playing through the radio, you slow down as you near the residential area, confident that this drive will end without a single thing gone wrong. Without speaking, you jinx your thoughts as you jolt when your car goes over a bump and a loud wheeze follows it. Turning your head to the side, your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide upon seeing the pissed off glare of Sae Itoshi, the infamous Japanese soccer player who just returned from Spain with a sexy tan.

With a shaky hand, you roll down your window and immediately start tumbling over your rushed apologies. You don’t even understand what you’re saying but you hope that Itoshi somehow understands. When he doesn’t react, which is what you expected but it hurts nonetheless, you immediately shut up and tumble out of your car before getting on your knees and seeing what you ran over. 

Your hand reaches and pulls out a deflated soccer ball, the entire thing flat with a large hole on the side from when it got run over by your car. You almost feel inclined to inflate it with the tears that are about to spill out of your eyes but the only realistic and socially acceptable choice was to give it to Itoshi and once again, apologize but with words that he and the average person can understand. 

Itoshi mumbles a “it’s okay” before taking the ball (can you even call it that?) a once-over. “I have more at home, I’ll just throw it out.”

“Holy shit I’m so sorry about that I can buy you a new one just please don’t sue me I can’t afford a good lawyer, I’m in student loan debt.”

“...why would I sue you?” he asks, his face slightly scrunched up in confusion. It’s not much different from his normal expression, just a slight crease of his brows but it makes all the difference.

“I didn’t mean to assume that you’re gonna sue me, please don’t sue me for assuming!” You think that you should begin to pack your bags and take out a loan to move to another country. It would be easier to be a criminal than to deal with a conversation with a guy who multiplies your humiliation. “I just thought that you might get your super prestigious and rich and wealthy and prosperous and exquisitely-copious-in-currency soccer team on my ass ‘cause I ran over one of their balls,” you nervously rambled. Your face heats up at every word and one Itoshi divides into two Itoshis and two Itoshis split into four.

“Are you schizophrenic? I thought you were normal back in middle school,” sixty-eight Itoshis say in unison.

Your body freezes, the now one hundred twenty-eight Itoshis all morphing back into one. “Wait, we went to middle school together?”

“Uh, yeah,” he blinks, this time looking even more awkward than you. “We were in the same class for two years straight and I sat next to you the semester before I left. I think I would remember the kid who slept through each period but still got all the answers right when called on.”

“Oh!” You perk up at the recollection of a scrawny red-haired boy from five years ago, one who would try to not-so-discreetly look at your worksheet answers and peek at your notes during class. “You’re the boy who would always copy off my work. I do remember you!”

“Is that all you remember about me?” If Itoshi were any other person, you’d say he looked uncomfortable but all he did was tilt his head a little more to the left and shift on his feet. 

“I mean, the only reason why you remember me is ‘cause I saved your academics without even knowing. Don’t think I didn’t hear our teacher whispering ‘good job’ to you while returning our tests and how you suddenly moved up in our class rankings.”

“Well you didn’t bother to hide anything when you were snoozing away so whose fault really is it?”

“You were gonna leave for Spain, anyway!” you point out, remembering being pissed off when hearing the reason why your seatmate left was because he was some kind of sport prodigy, basically having his entire future as a star secured at the age of thirteen.

“My parents would’ve killed me and held me by my feet if I flunked.” Itoshi grimaced, kissing his teeth and brushing his hair back as it had fallen over his eyes. His cheeks had returned to its usual color, removing the red flush of running and exhaustion.

“Huh, I guess I should be credited for your success. Spain should thank me.”

“Are we forgetting that I’m the one who plays the sport?” Sae’s voice came out harsher than he intended and cut through the playful atmosphere by the first syllable. His demeanor appeared unchanged but he felt himself tense. 

Conversation had never been strong for Sae, only ever talking when he needed to and the most of his words going to his teammates on the field or his little brother. His success was a sensitive subject whether he liked to admit it or not. Spain served as an eye-opener to the teenage boy, being left in a country where no one looked like you and no one spoke your language. The only thing he could rely on was a translator he barely trusted and the expressions of the people around him. 

When you don’t respond, Sae observes your face, noticing how you began to fidget with your fingers just as you had when you first stepped out of the car. You weren’t his previous coaches; you were just a former classmate who he happened to run into, or rather, you drove into. It was too late to laugh and he felt slightly guilty at freaking out someone that wasn’t his brother, an opponent, or a bothersome news anchor. 

“If you want to repay me for the ball, meet me at the sports store nearby.”

“Sorry, but I don’t really know where you’re talking about,” you sheepishly reply, wanting to sink more into the ground with every word. You decide that talking to athletes is more tiring than playing an actual sport.

“Give me your number, I’ll send you the address.”

You hand him your phone, hoping he doesn’t comment on the horrendously cracked screen protector that you had been telling yourself to replace for months. At the same time, you also want him to notice the small possibility of him offering to buy you a new one, taking advantage of rich people or whatever. “I can pick you up if you don’t mind.”

“Should I trust you to drive me?” he asks, carefully looking between you and your car with his turquoise eyes as if analyzing his opponents on a field, only, this was a residential street and the only other player was a balding middle aged man walking his dog. 

“I mean, you’ll be my first passenger so you can find out for everyone else.”

“If I get into an accident I’ll sue you for real.”

“I’ll try not to, I don’t have a job anymore and I’m going to college soon so even if I do please be merciful I swear I have good intentions.”

“Pick me up tomorrow at 11 and I’ll give you a review,” he decides, handing over his phone with the contact ‘Sae Itoshi’ at the top of your phone and the name of a sports store sent to your conversation. You ponder for a moment about asking for a contact picture but you’d like to stay alive for at least one more day so you bid him farewell and sit back in the driver’s seat, hoping he doesn’t hate your taste in music when you turn the radio back on.

—

The Itoshi residence is rather normal, differing from your expectation of a lavish mansion with fountains and fences of gold, given that Sae was a famous athlete and his younger brother Rin was known throughout the prefecture for being a mini Sae. The previous night when you had just finished brushing your teeth, your phone screen illuminated with the presence of a new notification: a text from the older Itoshi.

>make sure you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow

>i’ll need to try each ball out

>you did this to yourself

>shitty driver

A jolt of pain had struck your pride, crumbling your ego at the realization that he was, unfortunately, right about needing to sacrifice your entire afternoon to babysit a (grown) stranger whom you haven’t talked to in years; those conversations were brief, lacking any substance to consider them actual conversations. For a moment, the thought of bailing on him had crossed your mind, the idea of leaving him stranded at his residence while you enjoyed a night in, marinating before a tumultuous college career seemed insatiably tempting. 

Disaster struck when you Googled Sae Itoshi’s net worth, his bank account leading you right to his front doorstep.

“Don’t get into any car accidents,” Sae told you as he dipped his head down to step into the passenger’s side of your car. You were suddenly struck with a moment of insecurity; a wealthy athlete who could probably buy your family and your ancestor’s mummified corpses is sitting in your car and is probably rich enough to get away with murdering you for having half a particle of dust fall onto his lap.

You realized you zoned out when Sae cleared his throat, blinking a few times at you with an unamused expression and eyebrows furrowed in judgment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, man. Just trying to remember the name of the place you mentioned. It’s a technique I use where if I think really hard in the same place I was when I thought of that thought, that thought I had thought of can reappear in my thoughtless mind.” You aren’t sure if you understand what you’re saying but you think you can get away with spouting bullshit if you use enough hand movements like a person on TedTalk.

“What the actual fuck are you saying?” Sae doesn’t seem to believe you but you’re an innovator—you simplify the problem down to something the average person (underling) can understand. 

“Can you give me the address again..?”

“You’re a freak.”

Sae picks up your phone, which was opened to the navigator app, and quickly typed in the name of the sporting good’s shop he had mentioned the day before. It was a small place, smaller than you would expect a star athlete to go to for equipment but you suppose it makes sense at the same time: less people, less paparazzi, less crazed fans, and a selection of items picked specifically for trained athletes. 

“So, uh, are you gonna make me pay for the ball too ‘cause I’m at least, like, five yen in student loan debt,” you sheepishly ask, hoping Sae can appreciate your humility in being a college student, taking a step forward in life by pursuing a higher education. 

“How cheap are you?” Sae scoffs, letting out a sound that started off as half of a chuckle but ended as a constipated grunt, making him sound like a diseased lab-grown goat that was raised by war-stricken alien society. You think Sae should become an experimental musical artist if soccer doesn’t work out, sorta like a fucked up version of Björk who’s slightly less musically talented and a total cunt instead. 

“I’m not cheap! I’m just curious. I brought my credit card just in case. I’m a responsible adult; this is all for budgeting and logging my payments or whatever else people do to save money.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” Sae comments as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world. For you though, you almost stepped on the breaks and begged him to repeat what he said. It would have been just another condescending compliment from anyone else but Sae Itoshi is notorious for not humoring anyone in the media and you quickly realized, even those in real life. Before you could doubt your memory, Sae opens his mouth again. “You lucked out on pretty privilege. All the bullshit you say would not slide if it came from any other person. I’m convinced the only social experience you have is talking to a mud wall.”

Any negative statement he had made went through one ear and directly out the other, keeping only the compliments for your brain to process. Without noticing, a giddy smile appeared on your face and to Sae, it was wildly masochistic the way you tolerated his foul personality and even relishing in his attention—no matter good or bad. He could almost pity you, deducing your attitude as a lack of self respect, but you somehow manage to surprise him every time.

“Nah, I think I had a lot of friends. I don’t know if we were actually friends but I knew their names so it’s probably good enough. Speaking of, there was this guy named Kota who I knew when I was seven and he seemed pretty cool until I caught him picking at his feet in the middle of class. Sometimes I wonder how he’s doing and if he’s still collecting foot gunk. But yeah, I think you’re just self projecting with the whole ‘no people, only soccer’ thing and moving to Spain with zero spanish skills. Damn, wait, that’s kinda sad. Shit, now I feel bad,” you take a look at Sae, searching for any sort of discomfort or offense but he simply shrugged. 

“It’s whatever, they all bothered me anyways. I was there to play soccer, not make lifelong friends. It’s not like I’m gonna stay in Spain forever. I’m back in Japan to renew my passport ‘cause I know I’m gonna come back eventually.”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself and you’re making insane money that can last more than a lifetime for the average person once your contract is over. It’s not gonna be long before you get onto the Olympic team for Japan. When you do make it on, you better thank me for making sure you kept on playing by bringing you to buy a replacement for a ball I ran over.”

You drove into a parking lot with two other cars directly in front of the sports shop. The building was in the middle of a small plaza, adjacent to an udon shop and a bar. It was undoubtedly an odd place for a sports shop to be and that might have been what caught Sae’s eye in the first place. In the window display, a tennis racket and a pair of soccer cleats are put on display and on the glass door, countless advertisements for events and brands are taped on, each barely correlating to the others.

Right in the corner of the shop is the checkout where an elderly man sits, scribbling something in a beaten journal. There is a stack of newspapers behind him, every issue marked with highlighted annotations and then neatly folded as if it were untouched. Sae greeted the man and turned to find someone else, this time, being a younger man who appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He gave Sae a warm smile and shook his hand, not as a business partner, but as an acquaintance. 

It’s here that you realize you’ll never be able to see the world the way Sae does. In your car he was just another boy in your neighborhood that you decided to get to know. But to others, he was Sae Itoshi, a prodigy who could conquer the world with just himself and a pair of cleats. Although his eyes are dimmed and his apathy anything but silent, his shine was lost to know one and when he boards a plane back to Spain while you settle into college, you think you’d be content calling him a shooting star.

Sae notices that you stopped following him and turns around in confusion, tilting his head to motion you to follow him. It takes a breath before you put your hands in the pocket of your jacket and tentatively follow him. It wasn’t until you walked into the store that you truly realized how out of place you felt and if it were just you and Sae, you might’ve thought to ask him what everything did. He’d call you a dense fuck and tell you that he plays soccer, that he doesn’t deal with anything else. You had even the smallest bit of shame so you kept your mouth shut and continued to trail after him, stealing glances at the stacked shelves until the employee came to a halt.

Before you was a wall, lined with four shelves of nothing but soccer balls, each decorated with the signatures of different brands and their series’.

“The guy said I can try them out in the back.” Sae tapped your shoulder and grabbed onto the fabric of your jacket, dragging you with him like a pet cat. “They have a lot of empty space there. You can help me carry everything I want to try.”

Agreeing turned out to be a mistake. In your arms you struggled to carry six different balls, with Sae dribbling one between his feet as the owner of the stop unlocked the door to the back where Sae would be testing things out. You felt like an overworked butler from some bad comic and in your head, you imagined yourself as a fainting princess—a damsel in distress being overworked by the evil kingdom in which she is supposed to be respected.

“Stop being dramatic,” Sae sighed, noticing your dejected pout and lost eyes. He could almost pity you if you didn’t look comically pathetic in the moment, almost adorable if he wanted to be slightly sentimental. “You can put them all down now. Just sit here and wait. Take a nap or something, you’ll be fine.”

The lack of standards you have would be an issue to address at a later date because the barely comforting words of the ever eloquent motivational speaker Sae Itoshi had you immediately perking up and cheering for him.

“Go! Go! You got this! Get that goal, ugly!”

“Who are you calling ugly? I could knock you out with this ball, you know. If you want to be supportive, don't be a freak.”

“Are you really gonna disrespect the only fan you have at the moment? What if I tweet about this and get you canceled or some shit?”

“Do you really think I care about that?”

“...no…”

“...”

“...”

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

“Kick that ball, little boy! You’re a prodigy! Number one soccer player in the world! Bend that net over!”

—

By the time Sae had finished shooting several goals and alternating dribbling between them at least five times, the sun had set and your throat was sore from bullshit cheering, half of which were incoherent sounds of moral support. Sae grabbed an unopened box of the ball he had chosen and denied a pump when offered one. When he placed the cardboard packaging onto the checkout table, your wallet was in your hand and ready to check out and pay off your debt to the Itoshi. 

However, you were met with a receipt in your hand instead and a farewell from the owner, bidding you and Sae a happy rest of your day. You quickly turned your head toward Sae, mouth agape as your brain twitched, trying to process if he was fucking with you or not.

“Do you want me to pay you online or write a check or what? Wait, why did you pay? I thought I owed you it? My complaining earlier was all joking. I literally popped your old ball. The least I can do is pay for a new one!” You rant, quickly taking your phone out of your bag to open up your banking app but Sae was quicker to take your hand in his and bring it down to where it was before.

“And I was fucking with you too, dumbass. Or are you too stupid to remember back in the car how I didn’t respond to you asking if you needed to pay? Start listening, will you?”

“I think this is the meanest act of generosity I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not being generous, I’m telling you that you owe me something else.”

“What the fuck?” You’re perplexed by the audacity of this man. You hope his athletic career flops and every brand deal that he has gotten offered drops him. “Are you gonna start charging me an insane amount of interest like a loan shark? Dude, aren’t you rich?”

“I’m not asking for money.”

“Then what is it?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Are you being for real right now?” You’re still perplexed by the audacity of this man. You’re perplexed by how his words are chosen to form the most foul sentences with sweet meanings. You’re perplexed by how out of all who know him, and all whom he knows, he would take an interest in you. But you’re a selfish person—if Sae Itoshi is offering his beauty and his awful personality to you, then you’ll take it with all your heart. 

You move to Sae’s side, putting everything in your hands into your bag and intertwining your fingers with his, a dumb smile planted on your face. As you skip to the car and swing your hands between the two of you, Sae Itoshi’s grin is highlighted by the golden glow of the setting sun. 

He really can’t wait to come home.