pi

absolutely hasn’t the inkling of a clue at all- billy didn’t need food or sleep or showers, and he did know they were important because of anby and nicole, but he didn’t know how important.

i think, since he’s never experienced the need for any of those things, even though he theoretically knew of their necessity, it would be hard for him to empathise.

so, while any human being would be able to associate and overworked person with a nap and a snack, it wouldn’t be his first thought. i think he’d at first think you were sick.

“..hey! [name]! over here!”

it took you a couple of seconds to process. there was a fog in your head, and you only really heard him a couple of seconds after his shout. you slowly blinked in his direction, and then wobbled over.

“yes, billy?”

he put a finger to your forehead, frowning. “yeah, nope, your temperature’s normal. it’s not that cold nicole had last week.”

“…i’m sorry, billy, what?”

he didn’t seem to hear you. “but then… what else could it be?”

a puzzled expression took his face, like he was scanning through all the possibilities of sickness that didn’t involve fevers. then his eyes widened. “no.. [name], ARE YOU DYING?!”

at first it was shock, but then you started to laugh. “billy, why do you think i’m sick?”

at that point you brushed it off as a light headache, but he wasn’t satisfied with that at all. for a while, he would truly believe you had some life-threatening illness you refused to tell him about.

oh, gods forbid he read some fanfic over anby’s shoulder about hanahaki disease- then he’ll think you had that!

but, since he so wholeheartedly believed you were unwell, he treated you as such as well.

this was something he did have experience in, because when flu season came around and he was the only cunning hare unaffected, he’d run around taking care of them

if normal nicole was demanding, sick nicole was on another level

so he knew exactly what to do!

got you lots of hot soup from waterfall soup. buy you some flowers for moral support. offer a head massage for the headache. sprinkle some lavender oil on your pillow for better sleep.

all of these things unintentionally did make you feel better- the soup forced you to take a meal, the flowers somehow motivated you to shower. however, it was the lavender oil that gave your overworking tendencies away.

“[name], did you like the smell of that oil, or was it too strong? it’s the one nicole likes, but anby’s favourite is much softer. i can try that next if you’d like.”

“…what oil, billy?”

now wait. hold up. he definitely sprinkled it on your pillow

he didn’t tell you because it was supposed to be a surprise!! but if you fell asleep on that pillow, you definitely would’ve noticed!

did you… not go to bed at all?

“mmm, [name]’s room smells like lavender! what did you do to it?” that was belle, who had just come downstairs.

“what? really? but i didn’t even go into my room last night,”

you didn’t go into your room last night?! billy’s been sprinkling it with lavender oil for a week! he thought you’d bring it up, but you didn’t, so that’s why he’d asked- but if you didn’t, then you hadn’t been to your room all week?!

this absolute sweetheart. was probably waiting so hard to see if you’d notice but you didn’t. 😭

but that brings the question, if you weren’t in your room, where had you been sleeping?

“sleeping? ha! it’s been a while since i saw [name] do that.” belle sounded very sarcastic.

“but belle, there’s so much stuff to do! and not enough time! i’m sure fairy didn’t mind me crashing with her and the hdd this week.”

an automated voice could be heard from inside the office. “while i do enjoy our time together, my extensive data tells me that you, unlike me, need sufficient rest.”

belle sighed. “billy, i’ve tried everything. please get [name] to take care of themselves.”

so the deathly sickness was… exhaustion? the dark circles around your eyes were from insomnia, not a virus?

that made things easier! oh, it was on.

now that he knew where to properly place his concerns, there was no escaping him- and billy in care mode was very strict.

he called you every few hours to remind you to drink water! sometimes he’d be in the middle of a mission-

“[name]- *bang bang bang* - drink your water- bang bang*- now!”

“BILLY ARE THOSE GUNSHOTS?”

“okay bye!”

took you on lunch dates. emphasis on lunch- whatever plans you had always involved food somehow.

nicole told him, “maybe make them a meal! they can’t say no to that~” but that ended with a kitchen getting burnt so. lunch dates it was

properly informed you of the lavender oil on your pillow. it was such a sweet thing to do, maybe a small nap on your bed didn’t sound so bad after all.

Wise had leaned over against the back of the couch, one hand gripping the edge while the other covered his mouth in a failed attempt to stop laughing. Every few seconds another wheeze escaped him, shoulders shaking harder than before. “Are you going to save me?”  he gasped, pointing at you before another laugh interrupted him. “This is the best thing ever”

“Please stop laughing, this is really embarrassing.” The words came out far more strained than intended as you tugged uselessly at the short cape attached to the back of the costume. The synthetic material squeaked under your gloves. You were whining too much for someone who put themselves into it. Honestly, this entire situation was a disaster. A few nights before you were sleeping over with Belle. Within that night you both might have over indulged and got a little wasted and perhaps found yourself making very certain ideas.

Now here you were standing in the middle of Random Play dressed as one of the Starlight Knights from those serialized shows Billy adored so much. Specifically, a pink one   because apparently your intoxicated self had decided the color suited you best.

“At times like these,” Wise said as he finally straightened himself up, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “it makes me proud to be Belle’s brother.”

You glared at him from beneath the ridiculous little visor attached to the headpiece.

“You are the least supportive person I know.”

“Oh, no, I’m being supportive,” he replied immediately. “I’m supporting Billy’s future happiness.”

A groan escaped you as you dropped the helmet onto the couch cushions. The armor pieces clacked awkwardly together while the utility belt dug into your side. It was funny the situation you put yourself in and fortunately enough the only consequence is having Wise be a bully for a few minutes. 

You hadn’t even seen the Cunning Hares in over a week thanks to commissions piling up, so maybe you lucked out for this day. They didn't really come around, always looking to be back at work.

His gaze swept over the costume again. The costume might not have been for him but he would be a liar of a man to say that it wasn't really attractive of you to be seeing everything fit so perfectly. “All things considered,” he admitted, “it’s honestly not as bad as you think.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“I’m serious.” He shrugged. “The color works. Surprisingly well, actually.”

Unfortunately, that only made your embarrassment worse. The fitted body suit hugged closer than expected, the black and pink material accentuating every movement whenever you shifted. The boots added extra height while the gloves and accessories made the whole thing look authentic instead of a halloween costume.

Belle had gone all in when ordering it. Of course she did. Wise tilted his head. “I mean, if Billy sees this, I'm sure he would propose on the spot.”

“WISE.”

“What? I’m just being realistic.”

You grabbed one of the couch pillows and launched it at his head. He caught it easily.

Billy Kid of the cunning hares was something of a fanboy, that much was obvious to anyone who goes near him. There isn't a piece of lore of that show that Billy didn't know of that show. Which was exactly why drunk you had thought this would somehow be “cute.”

Sober you wanted to crawl into a Hollow and disappear forever. Before you could continue regretting every life choice leading to this moment, the electronic bell above the shop door chimed from the front room. Both you and Wise stilled while looking towards the door.

Then came Belle’s voice from outside. “Ohhhh, she’s still wearing it? Perfect.”

Your soul actually left your body. Anything after this is a corpse being animated. 

“No,” you warned, standing straight abruptly. “Wise hide me right now.”

“Manager! We brought snacks ” In Billy's mind it was something akin to an 80s love ballad that started to play.  A gust of air swept through the shop as the front door slid fully open, sending loose receipts fluttering across the floor. flower petals   where the hell had those even come from?   drifted through the air around you.

Billy stood in the entrance of Random Play, “…Starlight Knight Astra Prime Pink Edition?”

You closed your eyes. Maybe if you didn’t look at this situation, it wouldn’t be real. Then came the sound of a loud thump and other things falling. You cracked one eye open just in time to witness Billy had dropped himself onto his knees.

“…No?,” you whispered in horror.

The cyborg ignored you completely. Billy began inching toward you across the floor one slow movement at a time. While hearts bounced across his screen so rapidly they nearly lagged his expression software. Belle, meanwhile, had already pulled out her phone. Billy finally reached you, wrapping both arms around your waist with shocking speed before pressing the front of his screen   against your stomach.

“Manager,” he said reverently, voice practically vibrating with emotion, “I didn’t think you would be into the Starlight Knights. This is amazing.”

Your entire body went rigid. From above, Billy looked genuinely overwhelmed. Hearts, sparkles, and little animated stars flashed across his face while his optics glowed.

You awkwardly pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. “Oh, um… I’m not really”

“Could we take some photos?” Billy interrupted, practically whining now as he looked up at you. “Please? You look so good!”

“Billy, I seriously can’t. Belle got this as a joke, um…” Just your luck he let out a whine while moving his head lower down your stomach. Now the entire screen of his face was pressed directly against your stomach while he held onto you like you were about to disappear.

The costume suddenly felt about ten degrees warmer. Billy made another soft whine, hearts floating across his screen in endless loops while his voice dropped.

“You even customized the pink accents…” he says while grazing his fingers on the details. 

Holy fuck did your face feel warm.  “Let me get the helmet.”

Billy’s entire body jolted. You had to push his head away from your stomach so you could move, and even then he looked seconds from combusting from happiness.

“THE HELMET TOO?!” he shouted.

For a brief moment the  cyborg literally left the ground, hovering airborne in pure excitement before landing back down with enough force to rattle the coffee table. You slid the helmet on.

“…Manager.” 

“Well,” he declared, suddenly standing at full height, “your lead Starlight Knight is going to steal you away for the night. Goodbye, people!”

“What?”

Before you could react, Billy swept forward, hooked an arm under your knees, and picked you up effortlessly. You yelped loudly as the room tilted.

“Billy!”

Corbeau

“Can you hold this for me a minute?”

Corbeau barely looked up as he reached out, already expecting something tangible—keys, documents, anything that made sense.

Instead, you slid your hand into his.

He stopped.

His fingers remained half-curled, tension flickering through his hand before it closed around yours. He looked down at the point of contact, then up at you, brow furrowing in unmistakable irritation.

“…This isn’t an object,” he said flatly.

You smiled at him.

There was a beat—long enough that you wondered if he was going to pull away out of principle alone.

Then he sighed, sharp and quiet, the sound of a man resigning himself to something he absolutely did not plan for.

“Fine,” Corbeau muttered.

He adjusted his grip, deliberate and firm, as if humoring you on his own terms. His thumb settled against the side of your hand, unmoving at first, his expression carefully neutral as he looked forward again.

“Next time,” he added dryly, “try asking directly.”

Despite the words, his hand didn’t loosen.

Gradually—so subtly you might have missed it—his posture eased. The tension in his shoulders lessened. His thumb brushed your knuckles once, almost absentmindedly.

After a moment, he glanced down again, lips quirking just slightly.

“…Is this long enough for your ‘minute’?” he asked.

When you didn’t answer right away, he huffed quietly.

“I thought so.”

And when you finally tried to pull your hand back, he tightened his grip just enough to stop you.

“Careful,” Corbeau murmured, tone lighter now. “You did ask me to hold it.”

You got the distinct impression that he would be very precise about when he considered the task complete.

==========

Grisham

The lunch rush at Café Nouveau Truck No. 1 had settled into a steady rhythm—steam curling into the air, cups clinking, Griselle calling orders with sharp efficiency while Grisham handled the counter with practiced calm.

“Thank you—have a good afternoon,” he said warmly, passing over a drink with a small nod.

You lingered nearby, waiting while he finished up. When there was a brief lull, you stepped closer.

“Hey,” you said softly, “can you hold this for me for a minute?”

Grisham glanced over and smiled faintly, already reaching out. “Sure.” He expected… something. A cup. A receipt. Maybe your bag.

Instead, you slipped your hand into his.

He blinked.

His fingers curled around yours automatically before his brain quite caught up. He looked down at your joined hands, then back up at you, surprise flickering across his face.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

There was a brief pause—more thoughtful than awkward—before his grip adjusted, gentle but secure. His thumb rested lightly against the side of your hand, warm from the coffee cups.

“…Alright,” Grisham murmured, as if accepting a small, unexpected responsibility. “I’ve got it.”

Griselle noticed immediately.

She leaned against the counter, eyes narrowing with interest. “Is this a thing now?”

Grisham’s ears tinted just a little pink.

“She asked me to hold it,” he said simply.

Griselle snorted. “That’s not a thing. That’s a hand.”

Grisham shot her a look—not sharp, just warning. “Griselle.”

“What?” she said innocently. “I’m just saying, you’re smiling.”

He wasn’t—at least, not obviously. But the tension in his shoulders had eased, and he’d shifted closer to you without realizing it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When you gently tugged your hand back after a moment, Grisham hesitated.

“…Oh,” he said again, a little sheepish this time, loosening his grip. “Sorry. I thought you meant longer.”

Griselle grinned. “Sure you did.”

Grisham cleared his throat, still smiling faintly. “Anytime you need me to hold something,” he added, glancing at you, “just let me know.”

And somehow, despite the noise and bustle of the truck, it felt like the simplest promise in the world.

==========

Ivor

The dojo was unusually quiet.

Not empty—just calm. Sunlight streamed in through the high windows, dust motes drifting lazily as Ivor finished setting equipment back in place. Gwynn stood nearby with her arms crossed, watching him with that familiar look of mild skepticism.

You stepped closer, waiting for a pause.

“Hey, Ivor,” you said casually. “Can you hold this for me for a minute?”

“Sure!” he replied instantly, already reaching out. “What is it—wait, is this another balance thing? Like that drill you showed me last week?”

Before he could finish the thought, you slipped your hand into his.

Ivor blinked.

He stared down at your joined hands, then back up at you, brow furrowing in intense concentration.

“…Am I supposed to be doing something?” he asked cautiously. “Because if this is a grip-strength exercise, I should probably—”

“Ivor,” Gwynn cut in flatly.

He looked at her. “What?”

“That’s not training.”

He looked back at your hand.

Then at yours.

Then back at Gwynn.

“Oh.”

There was a very brief moment where you could see the gears turning—slowly, valiantly—before understanding finally dawned.

“Oh!” he said again, louder this time.

His face broke into a grin so wide it was almost blinding.

“Oh—wait—this is just—” he laughed, squeezing your hand without thinking. “You just wanted to—wow, okay, yeah, that makes way more sense.”

Gwynn sighed. “Incredible.”

Ivor didn’t let go.

In fact, he stepped closer, fingers lacing with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, warm and absentminded, like he’d discovered something precious and was afraid to drop it.

“This is nice,” he said earnestly. “You should’ve said so earlier.”

“I did,” you pointed out. “I asked you to hold it.”

He gasped softly. “You did?”

Gwynn shook her head. “I’m leaving.”

“Okay!” Ivor said cheerfully, not taking his eyes off you.

Once you were alone—or at least not being actively judged—Ivor squeezed your hand again, beaming.

“Anytime,” he said happily. “Seriously. You ever need me to hold something—like, anything—I’m your guy.”

You laughed, and he laughed with you, shoulders relaxing as if something had settled into place.

And if he kept holding your hand long after your “minute” was up?

Well.

That just felt right.

==========

Urbain

Running errands with Urbain was never a quick affair.

Somehow, a simple list turned into three stops, two detours, and at least one enthusiastic conversation with a stranger who definitely did not need to know as much as Urbain was telling them.

You trailed along beside him as he walked, Rotom Phone in one hand, already mid-scroll.

“Alright,” Urbain said absently, “we’ll stop by the market first, then—ah, yes—this should only take a moment.”

You smiled to yourself. “Hey,” you said lightly, stepping closer. “Can you hold this for me for a second?”

“Of course,” Urbain replied immediately, barely glancing up as he reached out.

You slipped your hand into his.

He didn’t notice. At least—not right away.

He kept walking, fingers closing around yours automatically as he continued talking, already tugging you along with him as if this had always been the arrangement. His grip was warm, secure—confident in the way of someone who assumed you’d keep up.

You did.

For the next several minutes, Urbain dragged you gently through the street, weaving between people, stopping abruptly, then starting again without warning—all while holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh—wait, we actually need this,” he said, pivoting sharply and pulling you with him. “And I should check—no, never mind, I already did that.”

You caught his hand tightening just slightly whenever the crowd thickened, thumb brushing over your knuckles like a reflex. Still distracted. Still oblivious.

It wasn’t until he finally stopped—really stopped—that he looked down.

His gaze flicked to your joined hands. Then up to you.

There was a pause.

“…Huh,” Urbain said thoughtfully.

You raised a brow.

He smiled slowly, amusement blooming across his face as realization settled in.

“So this is what you wanted me to hold,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. “You could have just said you wanted my hand.”

You shrugged. “You were busy.”

He laughed, soft and warm, and instead of letting go, he adjusted his grip—fingers lacing properly now, deliberate.

“Fair,” Urbain said. “But I don’t mind being distracted for this.”

He leaned in slightly as you resumed walking, his thumb tracing an idle circle against your hand.

“Next time,” he added lightly, “I’ll even pretend not to notice again.”

When you reached your destination and slowed, Urbain finally turned toward you, expression fond and open.

He didn’t say anything this time.

He just leaned down and kissed you—gentle, unhurried, like he’d decided this was the best part of the errand after all.

And when he pulled back, still smiling, he didn’t let go.

“Ready?” Urbain asked cheerfully. “I think we’ve got one more stop.”

Autumn came sweeping in like any other year, and the annual fair came trotting into the town not long after. Paired with the cool breeze and crunchy orange leaves, it was the perfect fall season. With that in mind, you figured that the best way to celebrate was by attending the fair that came with.

As you walk past the colorful banners and decorations at the entrance, you begin eyeing all the potential rides that you could go on. Notably, there was the rollercoaster, the carousel, the ferris wheel, and an area reserved for the various carnival games. You opted to try the rollercoaster first, seeing as that is where most of the adrenaline and excitement seem to arise.

Yet, something about the way the tracks wobble and screeching, metallic sounds the coaster made had your stomach churning and dropping, even as you stood here from the line. A part of you begins to just slightly regret your choices, but alas, you’ve already paid the price in the form of a ticket that taunts you in your clenched hands. 

Not to mention, with the naturally expected long line, the ride operator explained that people riding alone would have to share their seat with another lone person. Something about making the line shorter and the wait less unbearable. You figured that, as awkward as it could potentially be, you wouldn’t let the idea of your seat neighbour witnessing your utter fear and horror be a bother to you. Not at all… 

Speaking of, you glance to your side as sneakily as possible. You get a good look at who would be your potential cart-mate: A handsome, brown-haired man in a green hoodie, ear muffles, and scarf, who fiddles with the hoodie’s hem– He doesn't look that scared, but maybe there's always a reasonable amount of nervousness that occurs when you ride these things.

You looked behind you and found that other people were in a much worse state than you: A man with a green overcoat and a purple hoodie clasps his hands over his face, looking green and ill. His neighbouring partner, a man in a blue coat– with voids for eyes, apparently?-- tries to shuffle as further away as possible in the cramped area with a grimace plastered on his face.

“Oh, those are my friends.” The man beside you says. You turn to look at him properly this time– and is it possible for someone to look even cuter than you initial thought?-- and he looks back with a polite smile. “I’m Edd, by the way. The man in green is Matt, and the annoyed looking guy is Tom.” 

You introduced yourself, and nodded over to his ginger friend. “Your buddy seems scared to death. Is this a dare?”

“You could say that. We’ve all got our own little challenges to overcome today– Matt has to ride a coaster without puking all over himself.”

A grimace falls onto your lips. “I’m guessing there’s history to that, then?”

Edd laughs, nodding. You follow, tilting your head and eyeing his expression curiously. He mimics you, tilting his head and pointing towards his face. “Are there crumbs on my face?”

You wave your hand, shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just that, earlier, you didn’t look so confident either. Aren’t you scared as well?”

Edd scratches his cheek, his brows furrowed. “No, I do quite well, really. What about you?”

“Not so much, but not to the point that I’d be all green like your friend there.” You admit after a moment’s hesitation. A light flickers in Edd’s eyes– something akin to when a lightbulb lights up when you gain a wonderful idea. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking away, as if in deep thought.

Not long after, all seats on the ride were boarded and all safety measures were intact. You shift in your seat as soon as the ride operator begins their countdown. Edd seems to take notice apparently, as he finally finds the courage to strike up conversation with you once more.

“Um.” He begins. “This ride can get intense. We were on this one last year, too, so…”

He pauses, his face beginning to redden– could be the cold, or something much meaningful– and averting your gaze. Before you could ask what’s wrong, he resumes. “If it gets too much, you can hold onto me. If you want to, of course.”

You blink, mostly out of shock and feeling a growing sense of bashfulness in you. Edd seems to panic and about to put himself into a tangent of how it’s mostly for your comfort and nothing ulteriorly creepy, before you both realize that the ride had already begun moments ago, and you’ve reached the point before the famous drop.

A collective mix of screams in horror and excitement ring throughout the area, and you find yourself clutching onto Edd as you shut your eyes as tight as you can– It really misses the point of being on a rollercoaster, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. 

Edd stiffens, but seems to relax over the course of the ride and moves his hand to give a small, comforting pat on yours. However, at a concerningly sharp turn, you grasped onto it and held tight. Even with Edd letting out a small hiss of pain, he doesn’t budge nor move– He simply stays put as if to help ground you.

The ride, like all things, ends– but, wow, he wasn’t joking! That was intense. You find yourself stumbling out with the help of Edd, letting you lean onto his frame. It’s also no wonder you see others bent over on the sides or puking over the banisters and railings– Both Matt and Tom, namely. How was this ride even approved, you think to yourself.

Well, that doesn’t really matter when you find yourself being soothed on the back by Edd. He rubs calm, reassuring circles on your back and offers to buy you some water. Even until now, your hands are still intertwined.

In your foggy state, you simply nod along to whatever he’s saying, and he gently guides you to the nearest stall to get you a bottle of water. You gratefully accept it, chugging it down like a man dying of thirst. He puts a hand over his mouth, letting out a soft chuckle. “Well, that ride had its ups and downs, didn’t it?”

You groan, rubbing your face. “Don’t.”

He simply snickers.

“Thanks for letting me, uh, cling onto you, by the way.” You start, looking down at your held hands. “It helped, honestly.”

“No worries, I’m just happy to know that it did.” He grins, following your gaze.

You both don’t say much, letting the feeling of your shared closeness settle in– It felt nice, and so very right. You felt that it would really be such a shame if you both had to part, and you have an inkling that Edd feels the exact same way too, judging by his rosy cheeks and the way he fiddles with his clothing every few seconds.

“It’s, uhm, still pretty early out.” You comment.

Edd blinks, glancing at you with raised brows. “Right.”

“And I’d really like to try all the other rides before it gets dark out.”

He catches on, his lips forming into an ‘o’ shape. “Right. So, we can’t waste any time, can’t we?”

“Definitely not.” You say, a grin beginning to form on your lips. He smiles too, and your heart skips a beat as Edd tugs you along to the next ride, feeling lighter than air. Fairs are always filled with their own, special surprises, and you really like this one.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Did he really just abandon us here?” Tom grumbles, glaring at Edd and his new-found crush. “For some person he just met?”

Matt groans, leaning over the railings with a heavy sigh. “He didn’t even buy me water…!”

Tom rolls his eyes before feeling the sick, build up of vomit in his stomach once more.