#kumapaula

Her second clue had been when she hit puberty and her views on boys didn't so much as twitch. She still rolled her eyes rather than swoon when they flexed for her; she still didn't see the appeal of rascals running around shirtless. She awkwardly excused herself whenever her female friends chatted excitedly about their soon-to-be-boyfriends. She was utterly perplexed throughout the entirety of The Talk as her parents coached her on the feelings she supposedly had. Quite suddenly, everyone and everything in her life had begun to revolve around romance and sex, and Paula was struggling to keep up.

But she was just a late bloomer, right? Or maybe her apathy was because she only regularly interacted with Ness and Jeff, both of whom had boys in mind. Or maybe because everyone was always exaggerating, and she did experience those feelings―she just didn't know it. It could be any number of things. Nonetheless, she continued to uneasily change the subject every time romance came up, still not entirely comfortable with how long it was taking for these feelings to set in.

It had been right in front of her, but she had been silently in denial; refusing to even let herself consider the possibility that she would never be like her parents wanted her to be. Paula had never let them down, and she wasn't about to start now.

She wasn't.

And then her perfect world came crumbling down on top of her.

In the end, it had been her fault for not watching where she was going. As she made her way to school, moving on autopilot across the jagged, cracked sidewalk and expertly weaving around tree roots that had wormed their way through, she wasn't paying any attention. After all, she knew this route like the back of her hand, and she was far too preoccupied with a nagging anxiety for the upcoming PSI test. She was fairly sure that her PK Freeze β would prove satisfactory, but her PK Fire α was rather underwhelming. As she climbed the cement stairs up to the school gates, hand trailing along the rails, she absently wondered if she would have the opportunity to practice before class. Maybe she could sneak some training in during lun―

It happened incredibly fast. Paula's dress shoe clumsily missed a step, and she lost her balance. For a moment, she flailed her arms, and she nearly got herself back under control, only for one of her hands to slam against the railing with a loud crack. She shrieked, clutching the injured hand to her chest―and, consequently, losing her last bit of balance and sending herself tumbling.

Her stomach flipped, and, for a moment, she felt an elating sense of weightlessness. Then the ground was rushing up to meet her, and she instinctively threw her hands out to catch herself even though she knew that was the quickest way to a broken arm, another shriek escaping her―

A blur of blue and pink hurtled in from her peripherals and Paula collided rather roughly with another body, her outstretched arms automatically snapping shut around the first thing they could find. The collision hurt, although not nearly as much as her hand, and she shrieked one last time as her savior stumbled back, trying unsuccessfully to absorb the impact. Both clumsily sunk to the ground as their knees gave way, although Paula was protected from the brunt of the fall.

Belatedly, adrenaline rushed through her, and she gasped, her heart pounding in her ears. Her face went pink, partially from embarrassment, but mostly from the blood that shot through her veins. She closed her eyes, trying to regain control―'C'mon, Paula, you're better than this,'―and the concerned "Woah, you alright?" caught her off-guard. Her eyes opened again, and she glanced up.

Dark, concerned eyes; a shock of bright pink hair; a dingy blue hoodie with frayed sleeves.

And Paula Knew.

In an instant, she went from heavy breathing to near hyperventilation, her eyes widening and her heart skipping a beat. Heat built in her ears and behind her cheeks, and her face went from pink to tomato red. There was a feeling there that she can't quite describe; some macabre mix of elation and fear, because she Knew.

Suddenly, she was hyper-aware that her arms were wrapped around toned shoulders, strong hands were clutching her sides to keep her upright, and she was inches away from a delicate nose with a band-aid pressed across its bridge; close enough to count the long lashes and sparse freckles on…

Paula jerked back suddenly, eyes wide and horrified, her entire body shaking. Before she could escape, long fingers wrapped gently but insistently around her forearm, jostling her hurt wrist. A bit-off cry of pain interrupted her inconsistent breathing, and she liked to pretend that was why she gasped again; it certainly wasn't because of the skin-to-skin contact or the press of well-worn fingerless gloves.

The stranger winced, her smooth brow furrowing, and she gently pulled Paula's hand closer. One palm pressed against Paula's, holding her steady, while the other gently prodded her wrist; Paula wasn't sure whether the pain or the surprise hand-holding made her recoil. "Shit," swore the pink-haired beauty, her voice forceful yet concerned and almost melodious in a way―

Paula was having a hard time concentrating. Pink hair―dark eyes―beautiful voice―muscular arms―she finally settled on the warm hand holding hers. Rainbow-striped gloves―now wasn't that just ridiculously fitting?

"Maybe sprained." Paula was barely listening. Rustling fabric, a concerned voice; none of it mattered. She squeezed her eyes shut and just about wheezed. Or maybe that was a sob. Who knew; who cared?

Someone cared, apparently. "How bad's it hurt?" Another gloved hand settled on top of hers comfortingly, and her eyes shot open against her will. Tousled pink hair; the most intense gaze she'd ever seen; the edge of the band aid on her nose peeled up to reveal another faint freckle. She wanted to say Let go; her hands were boiling hot, and the added body heat was not helping. She wanted to say Please don't let go; she desperately needed the pressure of gloved palms sandwiching her pale fingers. Needless to say, she didn't say anything.

Mouth twisting into a frown that seemed so utterly wrong on her face, the stranger released her hand, instead holding onto her forearm again. "Can you move it?" she asked, and Paula nodded dumbly, still unable to form a verbal response. Almost as an afterthought, she demonstrated, swiveling her wrist from side to side. It hurt, and that must have shown on her face, because not all the worry cleared off of the stranger's. "Still might be best to visit the nurse," she muttered.

Finally, Paula regained enough self-control to shake her head rapidly. Mustering up all her strength, she tried to pry her arm out of the other girl's grip, but to no avail. "Woah, woah," her savior cut in appeasingly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Okay, okay. No nurses. At least lemme help you out."

Paula's heart stopped for a few moments. She was solid as a statue, frozen in the rainbow-gloved grip, unable to articulate that she needed to get away from this girl now, but she couldn't go to the Nurse's Office and miss her PSI test. Too late. The girl was already closing both hands around Paula's wrist, gently encasing them in colored fabric and warm skin, as her eyes closed. Her legs jumped and fidgeted restlessly as a soft green glow began to emanate from her skin.

Light shifted and pulsed as her toes tapped, flowing down to focus around her hands. Slowly but surely, the light seeped into Paula's wrist, alleviating the ache and cooling the heat that had pooled there, and, oh, jeez. As if this girl wasn't impressive enough for catching her―Paula had never once been able to pull off a Lifeup.

Soon enough, the light ebbed away, and Paula hastily snatched her arm back and stumbled to her feet, ignoring her scraped knees. Get out of here get out of here get out of here get―she searched frantically for her bag, but it wasn't anywhere to be seen―

"Here." She heard a rustle of fabric and jingle of keychains that was obviously her bag ('How did she get that?'), and Paula hesitantly but quickly turned on her heel and made a grab for it. As soon as her hand closed around the strap, another hand, clad in a rainbow-striped glove, landed over it, holding her in place. She stiffened, looking anywhere but at those eyes―'Nonono, she noticed, she Knows―'

"Name's Kumatora. What's yours?"

Rainbow-gloved hands, carefully but firmly locked around hers; an oversized blue hoodie and black shorts, shifting with their owner; earnest black eyes staring back as Paula glanced up, startled. A band aid, now smoothed back into place, concealing that secret freckle. Disheveled pink hair.

"Paula," she said before she threw all her weight against Kumatora's hold, broke free, and ran until she was bracing herself against her locker, panting, sweat pouring down her face.

It was nice. The feeling of Kumatora's arms around her waist was nice. Callused hands, not as large or thick as a boy's, encasing her own―that was nice. Wide eyes meeting hers; a singsong voice speaking to her; long legs covered only by black shorts. Nice, nice, nice. More than nice.

Paula Polestar knotted her fingers into her hair and Knew.

She failed her PSI test. Not only was her PK Fire predictably subpar, but her PK Freeze― her best PSI―couldn't have passed for an α, much less the required β. As the teacher lectured her on extracting her PSI and focusing it properly to the tune of her classmates' laughter, she was thinking about faded blue hoodies and pink hair and the feelings her friends had described to her back when everything was simple.

She hadn't dared to sit with Ness and Jeff at lunch. She hadn't dared to remind herself of her utter lack of feelings for Jeff's thin form or Ness's more fit body; not when her overwhelming feelings for Kumatora were so fresh in her memory. Instead, she'd told them she was going to practice for the PSI test outside, where she'd actually picked at the lunch her mother had packed, eyes staring blankly at everything and nothing.

Ness's mother was the nicest, most supportive woman you would ever meet in your life, and hadn't batted an eyelash when he told her of his sexuality. His father wasn't around often, but would always be behind Ness every step of the way, straight or not. Dr. Andonauts, on the other hand, probably didn't care, but Jeff never saw him, so he wasn't affected either way.

Paula still remembered the look of distaste on her father's face when she told him that Ness was going after a boy in their class. Paula still remembered her mother politely requesting that Jeff and Tony not kiss in her house. Paula still remembered.

She remembered, and she Knew.

By the time the bell rang, she hadn't eaten a single bite.

The school day couldn't have ended sooner. As soon as the gates opened, Paula ran. She ran the entire way home, not caring anymore if she slipped and fell again. When she reached home, she immediately told her parents she wasn't feeling well and penned herself off in her room, afraid to look them in the eye for fear that they'd Know.

As soon as she was alone, she buried herself under the covers and curled into a ball, the heels of her palms pressing into her forehead. Still, the images ran rampant through her brain. Bright pink, pale blue, and swirls of black completely overtook her thoughts.

Nightingale Syndrome. People who were sick or injured often developed feelings towards the one who helped them recover. It was psychology 101. But she'd first felt the… the… she'd first felt it before she'd been healed.

Just adrenaline. Adrenaline could easily have set her cheeks ablaze and made her mouth go dry as a long summer. But did it explain the electric feel of Kumatora's hands? Or how Paula had found herself gulping down the sight of her face, lightly dusted with freckles and framed by wild pink hair cropped short against her head? Or…

Paula shook her head as if to physically dispel the images from her brain. No, no, no! It was a coincidence; that was all. Her knees pressed firmly against her chest and she tucked her face into them, gripping her hair firmly and tugging it down to cover her eyes. It didn't help. All she could see was Kumatora, her eyes black yet bright and lively―

'No.'

―But what was some attraction between friends? It wasn't anything she had to act on. She could be like Ness and like both guys and girls; she didn't have to bring Kumatora home to her parents. An image of her hanging onto some boy's arm flashed across her mind, and nausea curled tightly in her stomach―

'No.'

―Or maybe she could just not ever be with anyone; there were plenty of women who were perfectly happy living alone. Romance wasn't a quintessential part of her life. Bearing kids one day wasn't her only duty. Another image arose: her, still working at Polestar Preschool, but never putting her own children through; her going home to an empty house and feeling too nervous to call a friend and ask to come over because she hated imposing on others like that―

'No, no, no.'

There were tears on her face now; hot and wet as they slid down her cheeks. Soon, she made some sort of gross, unladylike noise that she refused to call a wail, trying to press herself into an even tighter ball; trying to make herself even smaller.

'I-I'm… God, I'm…'

Bright black eyes. Loose blue hoodie. Tough pink boots. Rainbow-striped gloves.

'...I'm gay.'

She didn't bother trying to contain her sobs as her entire body shook with each.

Finally, after all these years, she Knew.

God, why had she ever wanted this?

Infatuation (n): an intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something.

Twelve hours of fitful sleep and one desperate dictionary check later, and Paula's puffy eyes were finally getting a break. As she hopped from definition to definition, swallowing thickly around the nail in her throat when she reached the term sexual attraction, Paula was infinitely relieved to find that it wasn't going to last. Sure, she probably would never get a husband and have 2.5 kids like her parents desired, but it wouldn't be long before the all-consuming thoughts of pink hair black eyes blue sweaters faded away into a bad memory. Then she could put all this behind her and start to put her new façade into place. And pray to Doria that she never had these… feelings towards any of her friends or classmates who she'd have to spend time around.

Shutting the dictionary with finality, Paula gathered her discarded books and slid them into her bag, hoisting it over her shoulder. Allowing herself a glance in the mirror, she straightened her cardigan. Although the mix of gray and dark navy blue wasn't really her style, she figured it could never hurt to alter her style. Her mother had been ecstatic at the idea and had happily dug out some fitting clothes. Besides, as much as she preferred her usual pink and white clothing, she had to admit that wearing such serious-looking colors made her feel a bit more important and self-confident.

Encouraged, Paula brushed her hair back over her shoulder and straightened her back. Meeting her own eyes to further bolster her courage (but also because their blue color helped chase the black and pink out of her brain), she nodded firmly and turned on her heel, snagging a piece of toast and heading to the back door. She had long past decided against going through the school to reach the front door―she didn't want to worry the children with her sudden change in wardrobe; they were just toddlers.

With a fleeting glance over her shoulder, as if to ascertain no one was looking, she quietly slid out the back and began to make her way to school. Partially to assure she didn't trip again but mostly to chase the memories of Kumatora out of her mind, she kept both eyes fixed firmly on the ground, carefully stepping over the outcropping roots and uneven cement.

Eventually, as she stepped through the dappled shade, carefully making her way up the path, her mind began to wander. First of all, how was she ever going to redeem herself to her PSI teacher? It was nearing summer vacation, and she still was incapable of producing a proper PK Fire β. On the exams, she would have to execute it flawlessly if she wanted to keep up her 4.0 GPA. Perhaps her previous idea of practicing outside during lunch wasn't so bad.

Holding out her hand, palm up, she gave her PSI an investigative nudge, trying to focus it into her fingers while still keeping the energy fluid. A flame flickered into existence between her splayed fingers, twisting and writhing as she fed it with PSI, but it quickly destabilized and died out in a shower of sparks. Paula sighed sharply, her shoulders sagging. After spending half of the school year learning how to compress her energy until it was packed tightly enough to make a PK Freeze, channeling PSI without making it a solid seemed impossible. For the first time in her life, the thought of just accepting defeat came to mind, but she quickly banished it. Her parents hadn't raised a quitter, after all.

Another tongue of flame twirled between her thumb and pinky, but quickly faded to smoke. Pursing her lips, she tried again, although she devoted most of her attention to the steps she'd tripped on yesterday, making sure her steps were accurate and deliberate as fire ignited and faded out atop her palm.

Until an all-too-familiar voice behind her called, "You usin' liquid PSI?"

Paula froze.

A few fallen leaves crunched under what she knew to be pink combat boots, and she resisted the urge to bolt. The toe of her ballet flat was just on the top step―she was so close―but she had never been a fast runner, and she was almost positive that Kumatora (warm hands dark eyes electric touch) could easily catch her.

Then the boots were clomping up the steps, and her fate was sealed. "Your PSI's too solid," Kumatora said. She pronounced PSI as a word, rather than saying each letter individually. Paula refused to turn around, hoping the pink-haired girl might leave it at that, but it was too late; a familiar pair of rainbow-striped gloves appeared in her peripheral vision, a well-controlled ball of fire hovering over them.

Paula tried her best not to roll her eyes; she knew that perfectly well. "Thank you," she replied nonetheless, her voice stiff and robotic as she tried and failed to produce another fireball.

But Kumatora wasn't done. "Hey, try this." She stepped closer until she was directly by Paula's side, moving her hand close to Paula's. "Loosen up. It's easier to make liquid PSI." Her own fingers copied Paula's tense, perfectly straight posture, then relaxed into a more natural curve.

Reluctantly, Paula followed suit, still not so much as glancing over her shoulder. Much to her shock, the next flame she tried persisted for a good few seconds before burning out. "Th-thanks," she stammered, and not just because her heart was hammering in her chest. For as much as everyone liked to scold her for being bad at PK Fire, they never seemed to have advice on how to improve. Why had everyone withheld this vital piece of information?

"No prob," Kumatora replied easily, and, with a swish of her large hoodie, she was standing on the top step, grinning down at the blonde underclassman.

Paula was now 100% certain that her heart was going too fast to be healthy, and she could feel her cheeks begin to heat up. So much for avoiding her first crush until the infatuation wore off. It certainly didn't help that Kumatora was now staring, taking in her uncharacteristic outfit. She bit her lip. Maybe there was a reason her mom always gave her pink clothes almost exclusively. Maybe blue just looked bad on her. That infatuated side of her was mortified at the thought of looking anything less than her absolute best in front of Kumatora. This had been a bad idea from the start…

"Can I draw you?" Kumatora blurted out, eyes wide and sparkling.

If Paula had expected anything, it wasn't that. Her own eyes widened, and the pink dusting on her cheeks turned to bright red stains. "I―what?"

For her part, Kumatora winced, nothing but repentant. "Err―sorry," she amended, her hands held in front of her placatingly. "That was a little random. Lemme try again." Straightening her back and clearing her throat, she reached into the messenger bag hanging casually at her side and pulled out a large sketchbook. "I think your outfit would be really good for a character design. You mind if I draw you?"

Reeling, Paula placed a hand over her nose and mouth in an attempt to hide her blush. "I―uh―" she stammered, voice muffled behind her hand.

'Say no. There's no way you could stand being around her any longer. Besides, the plan was to spend as little time with her as possible and wait for the infatuation to wear off.'

"Uh, yeah, sure!"

'For Aeolia's sake―'

Before she could properly punch herself in the face for her inability to go through with her own plans, Paula found herself speechless when a huge smile spread across Kumatora's face. Light seemed to radiate from the cracks between her teeth as her entire face lit up to the point of being nearly blinding. "Thanks! You won't regret it!" Kumatora swore, throwing a fist into the air.

'Too late,' Paula thought to herself, rather nauseously. 'Already regretting it.'

She could pinpoint the exact moment when an idea bloomed across Kumatora's face, but she didn't have the energy left to be alarmed. "Oh! I got it!" Kumatora said definitively, her face lighting up again (and it was in no way adorable when she did that, Paula told herself forcefully). "I can help ya with your PSI!" Her hand opened and a pillar of fire roared out with enough force to make Paula stumble back, shielding her face from its light. "My class is at PK Fire γ. I can help you get ahead!"

'Absolutely not. Why on Earth would you willingly spend even more time with the girl who you were specifically trying to avoid?'

"That would be great, thank you."

'Dammit, Paula!'

"Great!" Pulling absently at the bandage on her nose, Kumatora slid her sketchbook back into her bag. "What time is good for yo―?"

The school bell was so loud that they both jumped, shrieking in unison. Kumatora's eyes went wide. "Lunch today! We'll talk more then!" she shouted, and then she was gone, sprinting away, her form soon nothing more than a pink and blue dot in the distance.

As Paula hastened to her own homeroom, ballet flats slapping against the pavement and arms pumping, she grimaced, pushing the thoughts of pink hair, dark eyes, bright grin out of her mind.

Lucas turned away, unable to meet her intense gaze. "I said that I'd like to get to know him better, not that I wanted to talk to him," he hissed under his breath, his face only heating up the more she insisted. "That's two very different things!"

He realized his mistake the second the words left his mouth, and he winced, waiting for the retaliation. Sure enough, Kumatora downright cackled in response, pulling him even closer. "Oh, I get it," she whispered into his ear. "You want to know what he's like under that tux. I see what you're playing at." Her grin was like that of a particularly vicious Kangashark. "I must say, Lucas, I didn't think you were the type."

In any other situation, he might have screamed bloody murder and begin denying it loudly, making sure anyone and everyone nearby knew that he most certainly wasn't the type. But right now, standing on the dance floor under flashing strobe lights in an uncomfortable suit, all he could do was stare up at her with suddenly misty eyes and mutter, "Please don't make me."

Kumatora's teasing smirk faded away into a sincere smile. She released one of his wrists to place a callused hand on Lucas' shoulder, unusually gentle. "Seriously. Lucas," she said soothingly, a far cry from her usual rough drawl. "I know it's hard for you. And I ain't telling ya to start goin' to raves and talking to random people on the street." He turned aside, averting his eyes, and she stubbornly ducked down back into his sight. "But I'm graduating next year, and I'm not leaving until I know you have somebody here to talk to."

Lucas pressed his lips firmly together and didn't respond. A light pink dust still clung to his cheeks, and a bead of sweat rolled down his neck.

Kumatora sighed. "Just trust me. I'm telling ya right now; he's not gonna freak out. I can tell. And, even if he did―" She pulled up the sleeve of her dress and flexed, wrapping a hand around her muscular arm. "―I would just knock in those pretty teeth!"

Despite himself, Lucas felt a smile slip across his lips, but he was sure to look anywhere but her face nonetheless. His heart was pounding in his ears at the mere thought of approaching someone he didn't even know. Sure, he had seen Ness around campus, and everyone knew him as an athlete who always had time to help out others, but that didn't mean he wouldn't ostracize Lucas like everyone else seemed to do.

Besides…

Lucas spared Ness another glance and immediately looked away, stomach sinking, his assumptions confirmed.

Even on the off-chance that the most popular kid in his class was gay, Ness was completely and utterly out of his league. Lucas was baby-faced, even as a teenager, and had the lanky look of having grown too tall too quickly; he was five-foot-eleven and weighed maybe a hundred forty pounds soaking wet. Ness, on the other hand, was a star athlete, and it showed. Lucas may not have been the best judge of looks, but even he could tell that they were in completely separate spheres. And, although he didn't care much about physical appearance, he was pretty sure that was a dealbreaker for most people.

"Lucas."

He flinched and looked back over at Kuma. Her spiky pink hair was as unruly as ever, but, surprisingly, she'd put in the effort to wear a dress instead of her usual hoodie, and it made her look even more uncharacteristically solemn.

"Look," she said, frowning slightly as their eyes met. "It's one guy. He doesn't have a date, but he's not hiding at the punch bowl. That means he'd be open to conversation. He's really close with Paula, and she's a great judge of character. That means he's a good person. And he's wearing a striped bow-tie. That means dork. He'd be perfect for you." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Do you really think I'd drag you into this if I didn't have good reason to believe that it might be the best decision of your life?"

He bit his lip. Yes, he wanted to say. But she looked so utterly sincere that he couldn't help but believe her. He glanced back over at Ness, who was still leaning casually against the wall, watching the couples dance with a smile on his face.

Lucas sighed. He would probably regret this. But, then again, if he didn't say something now, he would definitely regret it for the rest of his life.

"Alright," he said quietly, turning back to Kumatora with a weak smile. She returned it tenfold. "Be my wingman, then."

Kumatora opened her mouth, probably to say something along the lines of About time! She was interrupted by a mocking coo of "Aww, what a cute couple!" Lucas' head snapped around, the smile crashing off of his face, and he flinched when he saw the familiar form of the bully who had plagued him since elementary school. Immediately, all his doubts came rushing back to him, and he lowered his head, teeth once again worrying his lower lip. "I guess you finally decided to give up that homo shi―"

Kuma's hand shot out, palm facing him, fingers splayed wide. He had only a moment to start screaming before electricity crackled out from between her knuckles, striking the ground around him. He stumbled back and his back hit the sill of an open window just in time for a solid wall of ice to shove him right through it.

"Oh, no," Kuma snarled as he toppled over the edge, still screaming. "You are not backing out now, Lucas." With no further warning, she renewed her bone-crushing grip on his hand and turned on her heel, jerking him along behind her as she stalked towards Ness. Lucas' heart was going a million miles a minute; he expected someone to come rushing to the bully's aid, but no one even seemed to have noticed over the loud music. The music that was steadily getting louder as he was dragged towards its source. He tried to pry open his lips to tell Kuma to forget it, just take him home, but it was too late―his mouth went dry―

Ness was right in front of him, still leaning against the wall; still nonchalantly sipping a glass of punch as he watched the dancers roll past. Kumatora finally released him, although his knees were so weak that he found himself wishing she hadn't. Why had he allowed himself to nurse this crush for so long? Why hadn't he just gotten over himself and accepted that one of the most popular kids in his class wasn't going to like him of all people? Why―?

"Yo," Kuma greeted, and panic smashed its way through Lucas' thoughts. He went rigid as Ness blinked and turned around to look at them, and oh dear Phrygia, Ness was looking right at him. "You seen Paula? I couldn't find her outside."

Ness grinned right back at her, unfazed. "I wondered who her date was," he said. His voice was deep for a teenager's, and his eyes were dark and full of mischief.

Kumatora's eyebrows raised. "You care?"

If anything, his grin only widened, and his eyes crinkled up in a genuine smile. "I also wondered when she was going to realize that boys weren't for her," he replied simply. "It was getting sad to see her insist that she was straight." As Kumatora grinned victoriously, nudging Lucas with her elbow and wiggling her eyebrows, Ness gestured to the other side of the room. "Paula just went over there looking for you."

Lucas stiffened.

Thoughts raced through his mind a mile a minute. Kuma had said she would be his wingman―she'd said that all he would have to do was follow her lead. Clearly, that was not the case. 'Shit, no, abandon ship―'

"Thanks. Name's Kumatora, by the way." Kumatora stepped aside and lightly punched his shoulder, knocking him out of his reverie; he stumbled in Ness' direction. "This is Lucas." Somehow, she managed to make it sound casual; like an afterthought. "He's my honorary little bro."

And then Ness was stepping just a little too closely into his personal space, something between a grin and an honest smile spreading across his face; looking right at him. "Nice to meetcha, Lucas," he said, and was it just Lucas' imagination, or had his voice gotten deeper? "I'm Ness." He held out his hand for a shake.

Lucas could feel his face heating up already, and he nearly burst into relieved tears when the flashing lights overhead turned pink at an opportune time, masking his blush. "Uh," he began, and it was all he could do to keep from smacking himself. "Uh, y-yeah. Nice to meet you." He took the offered hand tenderly. Ness' grip was firm and certain, and Lucas managed to throw a smile onto his face. The music was just barely quiet enough for his voice to be audible, and he made a mental note to stay at that volume.

Kuma quickly spoke up, stretching casually. "You run track, right?" she tossed over Lucas' shoulder. "We've seen you at meets."

Ness' gaze flickered over to her for a moment. "Yup. I do sprints." He immediately returned his attention to Lucas. "Your brother runs, right? Claus?" Lucas just nodded mutely, but Ness didn't seem to mind. He just grinned even wider, eyes flashing, and he looked so proud for having remembered Claus' name that Lucas laughed a bit despite himself. "I've seen you in the stands a lot, but I never saw you run, so I assumed it must be your brother."

Now turning something closer to fuchsia, Lucas reminded himself to smile and nod at the last moment. "Uh, yeah." Only now did he realize that he'd never let go of Ness' hand after the handshake; he hastily drew his arm to his side and took a step back. "I… volunteer at the popcorn stand sometimes." His mind was racing. 'He remembers my face…?'

Ness laughed heartily. "That, I didn't know! I'll have to make my way back there sometime."

Despite himself, Lucas felt his forced smile ease out into a real one at the sound of Ness' laughter. Even as he scolded himself with a sharp 'He probably remembers everyone who shows up to every single meet; or maybe he just noticed because you always watch his events like a total creep,' he found himself more relaxed than he had been all night. Maybe, he allowed himself to think, Kumatora was right. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Well," Kuma cut in quickly, "I better go find Paula."

Over the span of exactly eight syllables, any confidence he might have gathered left him. The smile on his face deflated rapidly, although he fought to keep it up. 'Shit, did I say this might not be bad? Because nevermind, abort mission―'

Kumatora's hand alighted on his shoulder as she passed him, and she leaned in close. "Dude," she whispered in his ear, a bit more smug than he was comfortable with, "he's more head-over-heels than you are. Compliment his suit and ask him for a dance. Just trust me on this one." With that, she was gone, weaving through the crowds with ease to find her date.

For a long moment, Lucas just stood there, frozen to the spot, eyes staring blankly ahead and smile still slathered on his face. Then Ness stepped closer and he snapped back to attention, barely stopping himself from flinching. "Something wrong?" Ness asked, eyebrows tilted upwards and eyes wide.

Maybe it was Kumatora's words finally getting through. Maybe it was the fact that Ness' suit actually fit him―quite well in fact. Maybe it was the fact that Lucas hadn't been able to shake this crush after a solid three years. But, most likely, it was the sheer concern and caring on Ness' face that gave Lucas the last iota of courage he needed.

Lucas took a deep, deep breath, getting as much air into his lungs as possible, before slowly releasing it to calm his nerves. Tense as a swinging Rope Snake and pinker than Kumatora's hair, he tried to hold Ness' gaze, but failed, and instead directed his eyes to the silly blue-and-yellow striped bow-tie around his neck. He swallowed thickly.

'It's now or never.'

"I like your suit," he declared in a sudden burst of bravery, fists clenching at his sides. This time, when he looked into Ness' eyes, he stayed there. "It looks really good on you. Almost as good as your track uniform."

Ness fell silent.

Seconds ticked by. Lucas didn't blink or back down; he remained steady. Five seconds. His clenched fists slowly released. Ten seconds. His eyes lost their fire and dropped back down to rest on the bow-tie. Fifteen seconds. He swallowed a ball of saliva so heavy it nearly choked him, shrinking back.

Twenty seconds. Still, no reply.

'Shit.' Kumatora was wrong. 'Shit.' His instincts had misled him. 'Shit.' This had been a horrible idea from the start.

'Shit.'

He was going bright pink again―he knew he was―he wanted to cry; he felt the tears well up―no, that would just make things worse―he had known tonight would be a mistake; he should never have come here―God, but he'd wished, he'd even hoped―but it was stupid―why pink, why did he have to turn pink of all colors―couldn't he at least turn red? That was a manlier color―would other boys like him if he blushed red instead of pink?―God, he was so stupid―

Laughter.

He blinked, releasing his lip from between his teeth (when had he started biting it?). Glancing up, he saw Ness, not red-faced with rage as he had expected, but just red-cheeked, an adorable genuine smile on his face. "I'm sorry," he chuckled, hand moving up in an aborted attempt to hide his smile. "Just… you're really cute when you blush."

Lucas' brain shut down.

Just as well. If he hadn't frozen there was no telling how he would've reacted when Ness stepped closer and quietly straightened Lucas' red tie. As it was, he was far too busy hyperventilating to worry about suddenly having someone right up in his personal space. Ness glanced up at him, and Lucas could see the exact moment that he realized his mistake; the moment his eyes widened and his breath caught and he urgently whispered, "Lucas? Are you alright?"

Too late. His head was still pounding, his heart beating wildly, as he tried and failed to convince himself that everything was fine. 'Shit, shit, shit, I never should have come here―' Suddenly, it was too crowded; too loud; too hot, and the walls were closing in on him, the ceiling collapsing on his head―

Ness' hand found its way to the small of his back, and he found himself being lead hastily outside. "C'mon," came the voice, filled with not anger or even exasperation, just worry and understanding. "Let's get you some fresh air."

As soon as they crossed the threshold, everything began to come back into focus. It was already evening―they'd missed the sunset, but the sky was a deep periwinkle that Lucas had always loved. It reminded him of Tazmily; he rarely saw it out here in Eagleland, which wasn't particularly smoggy but didn't have the same clear air as the Nowhere Islands.

Ironically enough, it was the sky that managed to ground him. Gasping for breath, he doubled over, the last few minutes taking their toll on his heart rate. He'd at least dipped below 'about to pass out' territory. As his chest heaved, his aching lungs doing their best to suck in enough air to make up for the past thirty seconds, Ness rubbed his back gently. "It's okay," he muttered, quieter than Lucas had ever heard him. He paused. "I'm... sorry for freaking you out back there."

"No," Lucas gasped, straightening now that his diaphragm wasn't tightening sporadically. "No, I'm sorry." He had to admit, although being this out of breath was a bit terrifying, it did create an excellent excuse to think long and hard about his words before saying them. It was nearly a minute later when Lucas finally added, "I… I meant it, though."

Ness shot him a curious look and Lucas tried his best not to freak out, remembering what Ness had said earlier. Still, that wasn't quite enough to take the tremor out of his voice when he muttered, "I, uh… I think you look r-really good."

The silence was heavy. To break the tense atmosphere, Lucas quickly added, "Way better than me, in any case. Even with the striped bow-tie." He tacked a crooked smile onto the end, and it wasn't entirely fabricated.

He was expecting Ness to smirk and quip back (because it was at least more interesting than Lucas' own plain red tie). After all, that was why he'd added the not-quite-insult; it was an easy conversation starter. Instead, Ness looked up at him with wide eyes and a small smile. "I wouldn't say that I look better than you," he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Suddenly, he stepped forward and his hand shot into Lucas' hair, disheveling it. "Muss your hair up like so, and voila!" He backed up and gestured dramatically, courteously pretending not to notice how Lucas's cheeks and ears were just about permanently pink at this point.

For a moment, he surveyed his handiwork with a manufactured air of critique, narrowing his eyes and touching his chin with a drawn-out "Hmmmm..." Then, eyes lighting up, he shouted "Aha!" a bit too loudly for Lucas' liking. Ness turned on his heel and hurried off of the sidewalk, kneeling down in the tall grass, and Lucas started.

"No no no, don't ruin your pants―" Lucas fretted, chasing after him.

Right on the edge of the sidewalk, Ness came barrelling back out of the grass, nearly colliding with him. Without missing a beat, Ness reached for Lucas' breast pocket and held it open, slipping a sprig of what looked like yellow wildflowers inside. "There!" he declared, placing both hands on his hips. "Now we match!" Enthusiastically, he gestured to the yellow in his bow-tie.

Laughter bubbled up in Lucas' chest, and he didn't dare suppress it. "I guess we do," he agreed with a half-snort, and, for the first time that night, his renowned contagious smile spread across his face. His lips parted slightly, showing his teeth, and his eyes crinkled up, another laugh spilling out from the gap in his two front teeth.

An indecipherable look crossed Ness' face. His grin faded, replaced with a small, almost tired smile. He drew close again, but slower this time, reaching up to straighten Lucas' tie once more. "Y'know," he said carefully, deliberating every word before it came out, "I bet you could get all the girls like this."

He looked up fleetingly. Two sets of dark eyes met. He quickly looked away.

"...or boys."

The night was quiet. It seemed like even the sound of the music from inside had faded away to nothing. Not even crickets dared disturb the moment. Silently, Ness continued to adjust Lucas' tie, pretending like it was actually crooked. When he looked up again, he was caught, two dark blue eyes holding him in place. Lucas was no longer smiling; his face was relatively blank, his eyes wide. As they stared at each other, Lucas slowly lifted his arms from his sides and settled them around Ness' shoulders.

"Boys," he whispered, so quietly that the wind could have blown it away.

The wind did not blow.

Otherwise, the silence remained unbroken. That one word seemed to echo across the sidewalk, reverberating against the walls of the building behind them. Slowly but surely, Ness released his hold on Lucas' tie, instead wrapping both arms around his waist.

"Boys," he agreed.

Neither one could tell when they transitioned from the traditional middle-school dancing position to a ballroom-style pose. And neither one could tell when they stopped staring into each other's eyes and started to waltz back and forth.

And no one could tell who leaned in for the kiss first.

"So, how did you do it?"

Smirking, Paula took the glass of punch offered to her, peering out of the second-story window to get a better look at the lovebirds below. "Oh, you know," she trilled, voice falsely innocent, "the usual tactics."

Kumatora casually leaned herself against the edge of the windowsill, sipping her own punch. "Do tell," she said, not bothering to keep the conniving edge out of her voice.

If Paula had been smirking before, there probably wasn't a word strong enough to describe the expression on her face now. "You have to be subtle," she said smugly, leaning against the wall next to her girlfriend. "You have to plant the idea in their mind a long time before it needs to bloom. You have to slowly put the idea in there." (Kumatora chose not to comment that Paula would never be reclining against the dusty wall if they hadn't been spending so much time together.)

"I never thought you'd be capable of that kinda thing," Kumatora drawled teasingly, returning Paula's smirk with twice the intensity. "You're way more maniacal than I gave ya credit for, I gotta say." She paused to take a long gulp of her punch.

Paula shrugged. "Well," she admitted, "I also got Tracy involved. We've been dropping little tidbits about Lucas being at the dance without a date for weeks now. I know planning ahead isn't your thing, but it does tend to pay off." She directed a fondly exasperated smile in Kumatora's general direction. "Speaking of which, can I assume that you just showed up to Lucas' place with a rental suit and dragged him off?"

"Why would you guess that," Kumatora droned in an utter monotone. "Do you think I am some form of scoundrel. I am a respected member of the community. This offends me greatly. Why, I have half a mind to―"

"Yes, well, call me crazy," Paula interrupted, "but I just got two thick-headed, oblivious teenage boys to wear suits and hug at a prom, so clearly my methods work."

A smirk spread itself across Kumatora's face, this one of an entirely different origin. "You seem proud."

Soft laughter. "Aren't you?" All of the mischief drained away from Paula's face as she glanced down at them again, replaced with an almost motherly smile. "Just look at them, Kuma."

Kumatora readily obliged, and she couldn't help but smile too when she saw her honorary little brother slow dancing with the man of his dreams, his oversized suit hanging off of his limbs. She pushed herself off from the wall and strode over to stand right beside Paula, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "We did good, Paula," she whispered, closing her eyes with a content smile. "We did good."

Minutes passed in companionable silence, the sound of music from the floor below pleasantly muffled but still audible. Then Kumatora's eyes opened and she cleared her throat pointedly.

"Yeah?" Paula muttered, not bothering to open her eyes. When she received no response, she pursed her lips and opened one eye, only to see Kumatora's hand hovering in front of her face. She traced the hand up to its owner just in time to see a huge grin spread across Kumatora's face.

"Don't tell me Ness is the only one who gets to dance with a cute blonde tonight."

Paula just laughed, happily joining hands with her girlfriend.

"No, I don't think he is."