#squirrel bakken

Truth be told, she shocked herself, too. But she wasn't too hasty, she told herself. She had returned to her apartment, made new arrangements for a catsitter for two weeks (knowing she could extend that time if necessary), extended her time off work by another week, and packed her large suitcase, good enough for a couple weeks.

A couple weeks, he had said, maybe a month.

And she had slipped into that backseat and put on that blindfold knowing that, if things went south, she could make it out on her own. She was good at that kind of thing, after all.

But she was giving this all a chance. She was trusting her gut with this guy (and his cute voice), and it hadn't failed her before.

The car ride was long and kind of boring. The driver didn't talk, and she didn't try to make conversation. She passed the time with podcasts and (keeping one earbud out — just to be safe).

When they arrived, and her door opened, his voice rang out, clearer than over the phone, filled with a confidence that whispered, I know what I want, and a high level of politeness for someone who spoke informally from the start. He gave his name: Ray, a beautiful name. And he asked to take her hand so she wouldn't hurt herself stepping out of the car.

Feeling a little fuzzy in her chest, she blindly reached her hand out.

Smooth leather-like fabric (oddly-shaped gloves, she concluded) and warm skin. But not a natural warmth, no — a nervous warmth, potentially clammy, yet dry like he had just wiped his palms on his pants.

A small smile graced her lips. If Ray really was nervous, he was doing an excellent job at hiding it.

He held her hand like it was reverent, like it was glass — and still, his grip was firm as he helped her out of the car. He didn't let go when she stood on solid ground, and she struggled, for a moment, to focus on his words. Her heart was beating a little bit faster than she was used to, the back of her neck felt hot and prickly, and her throat was kind of tight.

Squirrel didn't really know what to make of this bodily response, but it was... nice, in a strange way.

Then, he was leading her inside, two others trailing them with her luggage. (She felt bad for bringing so much — a suitcase, a duffel bag, and the small bag she carried everywhere — but she couldn't help being overprepared.)

He asked her to keep the blindfold on due to confidentiality, and she complied without complaint. Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes of their walk. She tried to pick a conversation starter, if only to take her mind off of how perfect his hand felt in hers, but she came up empty each time.

He was the one to break the silence, finally, expressing his gratitude for her cooperation. Just out of curiosity, she asked what he would've done if she refused this offer.

He was silent for a beat or two, and she swore she heard his breath stutter, and maybe that twitch of his finger wasn't exactly coincidental.

But it was fleeting: little ticks that only a mind programmed like hers would think to notice. Besides, Ray's reply was reasonable, Squirrel thought:

"Well... I don't really want to think about it. We could have delayed the release date. Or it could've been a disaster... Nobody knows."

When they reached her room, the other two people dropped off her luggage and departed without a word. The door shut, clicking into place.

It was just her and Ray, now. And her heart hadn't calmed down since the start. She swore it skipped a beat when she heard his subtle, shaky exhale.

His hand slipped from hers, and she found herself missing it (feeling the tingling of the phantom sensation, as if his fingers were still pressed into her skin).

"I'll remove your mask," she heard him say. He slipped behind her, almost dead silent, and his deft fingers were quick to untie the knot. The blindfold left her view, giving her a few moments to take in the room before her. Quite an impressive and spacious room, although rather... pink. But no matter. She wouldn't bite the hand feeding her.

And then Ray stepped into view, the sweetest smile on his radiant face, sweet like ice cream, and his voice, oh, it was just as smooth: "Hi! First time seeing each other face-to-face, isn't it?"

She lost her words. She was gaping — lips parted, eyes wide, and boy, did her face feel hot. And her neck and ears... and her chest and... Her skin buzzed with this warmth, her hands shook with it.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen someone so... ethereal. Even though he looked a little scrawny and the dark bags under his eyes told her he needed better sleep... Evidently nothing, she thought, could undermine his beauty. His white hair was a bit fluffy — perhaps a bleach job gone awry — yet there was a clear attempt to tame it. Baby pink streaks broke through the white here and there and tipped the ends. His fair face was soft yet defined... a young, baby-ish look to it, despite his slightly hollowed cheeks. He looked her age, for sure, maybe a year or two older.

And his eyes. The way the sunlight gleamed in them, they sparkled like two pure, mint blue gemstones.

He was a head taller than her, too.

He shifted his feet, pushed out a small chuckle, and she snapped to reality, warm with panicked embarrassment.

"Uh— y-you're just, ah, stunning—!"

He looked surprised, geniunely, his cheeks turning pink.

"I- I would, uh, hah, uh, um... H-how do I pursue you first?" Squirrel grinned — nervous, timid, feeling like a complete fool, with her bright red face and her cheesy drop of a line.

Why did I say that? Are we trying to flirt now?? Since when??

His surprise melted away, and he laughed — a gentle, breezy laugh. Her heart did backflips. She found her hand pressing to her chest as if that would settle it.

"Me?" He offered the world another taste of his pure, warm laughter — something the world didn't deserve. He was too good for this world — her mind settled on the thought in a heartbeat. "But I'm not a character in the game!" A chuckle caught on his final word.

She let out a timid giggle, trying not to bash herself too hard for her dumb one-liner. Her eyes darted to Ray's face (it was hard not to be drawn back to his glowing features and addicting smile).

...Addicting? Uh oh.

And she caught the way he was looking at her. She struggled to put her finger on everything happening behind those intense eyes. A hint of triumph, she swore; vague contentment. A twinge of darkness around the edges, washed out by... pure adoration.

Her face grew hot again.

No, no, she was surely reading him wrong.

And yet their eyes clung to each other, and she watched as something new entered his. It was... a feeling within her, more than anything. Like his mind was placing a cage around her, like his thoughts were locked solely onto her. Like he might just reach out, if they kept staring like this, and... touch her face...

It was gone in an instant. She felt whiplashed by his sudden bright smile, his cheery tone (a gentle brand of cheery), the innocent pink on his cheeks: "Anyway, you like my looks, Squirrel? That makes me feel good!"

She felt like she was catching her breath from running a mile straight. Somehow, she didn't lose his words to the whirlwind in her mind. Somehow, she managed decent replies. Somehow, at the very end, when she had mostly recovered (with her racing heart as the exception), she let herself slip up again — this time, without all the nervous stuttering.

He asked if she had any more questions about the game, and it simply... fell off her tongue.

"No, but... really, how do I pursue you, Ray-ssi?"

Another stupid, bashful grin crossed her warming face.

And his gentle, angelic laugh filled the air once more.

"Me? Ah... Though I'm not a character inside the game... I've always dreamed of someone who's a good listener to what I say. My voice is quite small... Most people don't seem to listen very well."

I'll listen to every word you say...

Shhh!!! Stop!

He dropped the topic just like that, finalizing with a few more words about the game, and then he was gone, drifting away like a cool breeze.

Leaving her alone in the middle of an empty room — alone to reflect on her stupidity.

"What the fuck, me?" she hissed, pushing a hand through her hair. Her heart was still beating erratically.

What is this?? What's happening? Why was I such an idiot back there? I never say stuff like that!!

I guess today's a day for firsts.

Gaahhh...

Crush~, whispered a tiny voice in the back of her mind.

Yes, she could easily hear Haeun and the rest of her friends teasing her for that very thing. But there was no way she had a crush on him. She just met him! No amount of good looks or high charisma had affected her like this before, so why would they now? She wasn't easily swayed by strangers like this...!

Is... is he a rifter? Maybe his power is, is charm or something!

But I'd know! That's a high-level power; I can sense those!

You have a crush, girl.

"No, I don't!" she blurted, tugging at her hair. Her heart wouldn't stop; her face was still hot. "He, he— I-I- I ju-just..." She groaned, half-heartedly swung a kick at her suitcase, and paced away. "There's no way... There's no way! He's just, um... um..."

Really cute? Super handsome? Has a lovely voice?

...She gave her head a furious shake. "No, no, that's... There's something wrong with me. That must be it! Why is my heart still beating?!"

Because you need it to live, idiot.

"Like this, I mean! It...!"

She stopped pacing, shut her eyes, and took a deep breath. One, two, three, four... Release... She repeated the cycle a few times, then opened her eyes.

"Okay..." she mumbled. "We're okay."

...Do you remember the way his eyes sparkled? How soft his face looked? Don't you wanna just run your hands through his hair? Poke his cheeks?

He looks unhealthy. Wouldn't it be nice to be the one to help him get healthier?

"Stop, stop, stop," tumbled out as she shook her head. "Don't go there; you barely know the guy!"

The way he looked at me... It was strange but... Wasn't it so nice? And warm? And comfy? Like being wrapped in a blanket, like finding your place. Like being found.

You were found. We were found. Didn't he say that? He'd been waiting for me...

She snapped out of it with another shake of her head. "No, no, that look was... familiar."

Very. Don't you think?

Look in the mirror sometimes, and then you'll find it.

She grew quiet.

There was no way... Was there?

Her heart was beating the same way. Her mental capture of him floated around the back of her mind.

And she remembered those eyes. That triumph. That darkness. That adoration. That last one — like he was locking her down.

It... did feel kind of warm...

We could... lock...

She shooed away the thought before it could fully form, then shook away the rest with an airy laugh. "Nah, I'm just overthinking all this," she told herself, told the air, told the world. "It's just... He's really attractive, that's all. I was caught off guard, that's all!"

She scoffed lightheartedly, flipping her phone in her clammy hand.

"A crush. Please. Me? An immediate crush? Me? That's not gonna happen." She shook her head in mild amusement at her little freak-out, shoved away all those concerns, and focused on her phone to start the game.

The game that he chose her to test.

...In the back of her mind, an itch blossomed. Within her blank heart, a seed of urgency emerged.

There was no need for urgency, no need for fear. As she sank further into this warm comfort, she had less and less reason to worry. Her worries were behind her, now. Gone forever.

Something... feels off...

Her body ached... maybe. For a moment, it did, but then it didn't.

But then it did: a dull blow to her stomach (her stomach that wasn't there). Her body (she couldn't see it; where was it?) trembled, then stopped, then strained painfully.

I need to...

...I don't know.

Something's off.

Nothing was off. Nothing was wrong. This place, this darkness, was her safe zone. She would be happy here. She could leave everything behind. She could give up control.

Let someone else take the reins.

She jolted. Even with no form, she could feel it. She could feel a rush of movement, of air — of lurching to the side and succumbing to gravity.

Invisible claws dug into her chest, hooked onto these sensations, and tried to drag them away. She imagined her hands clinging to her shirt, clutching these ties to... to... somewhere else.

Give it all up, something hissed, but it felt like a thought, like words being typed into her mind — like her own internal dialogue. And yet... foreign.

Mine, she shot back, trying to move her mouth. But her mouth was elsewhere.

The claws dug in deeper. Her skin (elsewhere) started to burn. I want you.

A comforting message — and yet, it drifted by on an ominous wave. She tightened her imaginative hold on a sense of physicality. No matter how painful it was starting to feel.

It was a connection to something... something...

Real.

Real. Reality. This was wrong. This darkness was wrong.

This darkness is your home.

The claws were slipping. The crushing pressure of nothingness was starting to lift. (How hadn't she noticed how utterly suffocating it felt?)

No. Reality is mine. There's...

There was someone.

Wasn't there?

A face. She couldn't quite grasp it. In her mind, it was blurred. Evading her hands.

But there was someone.

There's nothing for you out there. You belong here.

Reality is mine. There's someone waiting for me.

The pressure lifted more.

You are calamity. You belong here.

Reality awaits me.

You are lost. I have found you. You are safest with me. You must trust me. The world will hurt you. I will take away your pain forever.

This space was not her own. These words in her mind were an imitation of her internal voice.

It had revealed itself — whatever "it" was. There was more to this than escaping the world.

I like pain. It's better than numbness. I'll endure any pain to keep on living.

Reality was hers. She had a path to walk, still. She couldn't identify a single detail, couldn't see what her life was like or who stood beside her.

But she knew she wanted it.

You know nothing. Child of the Other. You have our blood. You are safest here. If you leave, you shall die by this world.

There's someone out there.

No one awaits you. I am your sole comfort.

No. I see... I hear... There's someone. I...

It dripped into her heart, then trickled in. Not their name, not their features. She didn't even know who they were to her. But she could feel, bit by bit, inklings of how they made her feel.

How... he made her feel.

Everything was muffled, distant, far outside of this ugly pool of cold captivity. But the surges of delight, admiration, awe, mirth, and deep-rooted love... — that was unmistakable.

He's waiting for me.

It is a fantasy. It is lies. There is no one. The devil is tempting your heart. What you feel is not real.

He is real.

Her chest tightened; faintly, her fingertips stung. She felt something against her palm, and then it slipped away.

The claws tightened around her, yet she felt them weakening.

It is not real. It is a trap, child.

Words. A liar speaks in many words.

My efforts are to save you. I shall take you someplace better. You are weak. If you leave your safety, you are declaring your own death.

I'd die for him.

It struck her chest. Her head spun for a moment. The feeling— the feelings. They were flooding her now; she could feel her every thought, her daily thoughts, her past thoughts; her every emotion. Like zipping through a movie, it burst her chest with warmth, shattered it with anxieties, and soothed it with peace. She still couldn't quite grasp the dozens of memories associated with each period of emotion, and yet she somehow understood it all.

But what was strongest, was that initial bundle of feeling.

I'd die for him.

Saeran.

Saeran, Saeran, Saeran.

I'd kill for him.

He is mine.

Reality is mine. He is mine.

I have something out there. Let me go.

I'd kill for him. I'll kill you. You are something. I'll end you mercilessly.

There was no passion behind her loud thoughts, not even anger. It was hard to feel her own emotions right now.

But she said it like a fact.

You cannot do that. I am your protector. He will do you no good.

So you admit he is real.

The claws dug in, but she reacted. Claws of her own lashed out, dug furiously into the large talons, tore into them, tore through bone, yanked them from her empty form, dug her shark-like teeth into them. A brand new fury engulfed her; she ripped them to shreds and kicked the remains down into the abyss.

Despite the nothingness, her vision felt clearer.

A shrill, clicking growl consumed the floating cage.

A bad decision, child. He stands outside, clueless. Your vessel is mine to guide. Its abilities are desirable. It has memorized several ways to handle other vessels. His vessel is undesirable to me.

Another series of guttural clicks.

But your connection to that vessel... would make quite the meal.

She couldn't decipher its exact intent.

But that didn't matter.

It sounded like a threat — a threat to Saeran.

To the first and last love of her life.

The man who had suffered undeservingly for his whole existence. The man who came out kind in spite of it all.

Anger surged in her chest again. Her own anger. Real anger.

I'll fucking tear you limb from limb. If you so much as touch his hair, I'll kill you and I'll fucking enjoy it.

You fucking entity. You baseless piece of shit.

LET ME GO!

Let me go. LET ME GO.

I want him. I need him. HE'S MINE. LET ME GO.

I'll kill you. I'LL KILL YOU.

Pilot. Pilot. Pilot!!! PILOT!

That dull ache was slowly spreading to the rest of her body, but she didn't care. She wanted it. It was deliciously refreshing amidst this terrible numbness.

You will never escape, blood. You—

If you corrupt him, I'll kill him. I'll kill him, I'll kill you, I'll kill myself.

Your logic is crumbling. That is what the world does to you. Fall back. My darkness is peace.

Peace! Kiss my fucking ass, dipshit. PILOT!!

She jolted, trying to feel her form outside. And— there! She felt a lurch. A streak of pain.

More. More.

She kept going, feeling the latches click into place — more, more.

It is futile. Your efforts are your imagination.

Shut up and speak to the FUCKING MIRROR!

Like releasing a coil, she flung herself into it full force — like shattering glass with her head and enduring the shards ripping through her skin. Fire searing through her veins, consumed her organs, blinded her with unending agony. Like a knife digging into her skin, her muscles, and slicing her into ribbons. Her throat — dry, tight, and actively shredding itself to bits. It burned and stung — a broken glass bottle shoving down her throat with inhuman force.

A constant sound, muffled and watery. Layered. Other noises whispered behind it, nearly drowned out.

Her throat was bleeding. Her lungs had collapsed.

Breathing was a foreign concept.

Her heart pounded in her head.

This really was it. This was her death. It was too late for her.

His name lingered in her mind as everything faded out. Her tongue wished to speak it. Her hands wished to hold his.

Her heart, though it was about to burst into gorey pieces, ached only for him.

She choked on a cry, and that loud (loud, loud, loud), lingering, constant sound stopped.

And air filled her lungs.

Her eyes shot open to colour, to shapes. Like emerging from deep waters, the barrier shattered.

Her heavy, wheezing breaths overwhelmed her ears — but it, and the sounds around her, were clear as day.

The white-hot pain was gone, leaving behind patches of aches, stings, and burns — nothing compared to what she just felt.

I was screaming, I think. That was the sound.

Squirrel was on the ground. On wooden planks. On patches of yellow straw. All she could smell was dust and iron and... and that faint scent of burning metal.

The one only she could smell. The one that only entities carried.

She wasn't out of the waters yet.

On your feet, Agent.

She shifted, grunted against some flaring pain, but pushed it all down. It's not your pain. Get to your feet.

Energy coiled up within her. Her palms tingled. She could feel something. It was nearby.

She rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself up, and leapt to her feet. Her head spun briefly, but she stayed steady.

She glared at the dark corner of the barn, just above the hayloft. Where she could sense it. Where she could smell it. Her hand reached behind her for the incapacitator. Her last resort.

Negotiation was off the table. It nearly killed her, after all.

Besides. The entity threatened Saeran. Her mind was made up.

...It was hiding, still. She could sense it, but it was hiding. Like a fucking coward.

"Show your ugly face," she growled.

She crept closer to the hayloft. She could feel its gaze through the darkness. Yet it stayed still and quiet.

Pilot stepped in suddenly and took over their voice, putting a rougher, deeper quality to it.

"We're not going to hurt you," she sang, her intonation telling a different story. "We just want... a bit of revenge. Is that so much to ask~?" A light, bitter laugh fell from her lips.

The air shifted. A metallic breeze. Like bloody air filling her lungs.

You broke it.

A disembodied voice: hissing, shrill, booming. Coming from everywhere at once. A guttural clicking.

You will be mine. Your vessel is most desirable. A vessel that can break those walls is one of strength.

Squirrel curled her lip in a sneer. "What makes you think, then, that you can have me again?"

Because you are weak now. Your energy is depleted. You cannot fight back.

She scoffed a laugh. "Keep telling yourself that."

You deny out of fear.

The darkness shifted stiffly. A shrill whine rose up, soon accompanied by sharp clicks. The metallic taste and smell grew stronger.

Behind her back, Squirrel tightened her grip around the device.

I see through you. You desire another's control. You wish for a shield from hardships. I am—

"Those statements are so vague, they'll fit anyone," she interrupted flatly. She whipped out the gun-like device and aimed it steadily at the shifting darkness. A slight smirk twitched on her lips. "I'm past negotiations, darling. I just want you dead."

...Your kind is amusing.

"Tch. You face death blankly because you think so highly of yo—"

A shriek of metal air; a dark bullet screaming towards her.

SHIT!

She whipped around and bolted.

Idiot! Pilot snapped, and threw their body to the ground, hitting the wood planks hard. The black mass zipped over their head. Pilot scrambled to her feet and stumbled away from the entity's new spot against the nearby wall.

...The gun was gone. Pilot's eyes swiftly darted around the barn.

It was by the doors.

Too far.

She warily eyed the creature. It was showing itself now. A pale purple thing of odd shape: four long, cylindrical limbs, like that of an octopus without its suction cups. A square-ish center with a hideous face: two dark eyes and a simple, disarming smile.

She narrowed her eyes.

Something cold chilled her neck. The entity's smile grew.

Squirrel's heart dropped. Her hand shot to her neck. The thing was already gone. The coldness spread; and then, a layer of warmth. Buzzing warmth. Like she was absorbing dimensional energy itself in its purest, rawest form.

A grin of sorts crossed her face. Pilot yelled something at her, but her voice was buried underneath all that pleasant buzzing.

Power. She was buzzing with power. This was nothing like all those times she had to absorb the dimensional energy of infused objects. This was a million times better. She felt a bit dizzy from the thrill, the pure giddiness.

It feels so wonderful, does it not?

Its voice was in her head now.

She laughed: rough, uncontrolled, brief. "Wonderful?" she rasped. Her throat was burning again. "It's the best damn thing I've ever fucking felt."

Is it? Well, th—

"No, actually," she said with an exhale, lifting her eyes to the slanted ceiling. "I just remembered." Another uncontrolled laugh. "The best damn thing I've felt is Saeran's—"

The door hinges squealed as the old barn door creaked open. The lamps from outside spilled dull yellow light into the already-dimly-lit barn. She could hear the night critters a little better now.

Then he stepped into view — and froze, his terrified eyes on the hideous creature. His fingers retreated from the door. One foot shifted back.

Squirrel felt herself grinning. "Saeran!" she exclaimed, throat sore and voice breathless.

He jolted and his eyes snapped to her. Relief visibly settled his nerves, but he remained tense with obvious apprehension (eyeing the dark entity).

He opened his mouth to speak.

A metallic taste, a black blur, and an artificial breeze. The creature loomed behind her, now, but she paid it no mind.

Saeran hurried closer, but stopped short several feet back, grave concern and a deep fear etching into the lines of his features. He looked painfully helpless as his eyes locked onto hers. Like he might cry. Like he couldn't move.

Her heart twisted, and for a moment, the veil lifted. Her grin fell, her elation dissipated, and she stepped forward, a hand reaching out. She hated seeing that expression on his face. She was supposed to protect him from this! And yet, here they were; and yet, his jaw was bruising from the entity's earlier blow. He was probably bruising elsewhere, too, depending on how he landed.

A knife to her gut — and it twisted its way deeper.

He was never supposed to get involved in these things. This messy line of work.

(And, maybe, she never should've chased this lead on her own. Maybe she should've just left it to the Western Unit, to the agents based here in America.)

"Saeran..." she choked out. Her throat hurt, still.

His expression shifted — a glimpse of hope, perhaps, within those terrified eyes.

And then they slipped past her, behind her, and widened. He yelled her name in warning, pushing himself into motion, and yet barely got a couple steps in before freezing once more.

Primal terror did funny things to people.

Saeran was doing everything he could to keep his focus on this moment. To not drift away. To not run. To not cower. To not do whatever else his instincts were begging him to do.

Which left him standing perfectly still, able only to watch as the edge of the entity's strange eyes glowed red, and black tendrils snaked up the veins in Squirrel's neck, and that glowing, purple-ish hue overtook her green and gold irises once more.

He was losing her again.

He didn't know how to fight something like this.

Her rasping giggle grabbed his attention. Her expression caught him off guard — a too-large grin, eyes brimming with dark adoration — her hand reaching behind her.

"Saeran...!" she exhaled, and her voice was laced with a familiar tone. But given the context, it felt so, so, so different. This wasn't her occasional moments of sane possessiveness. Even in one word — just his name — he could hear how unhinged her mind was right now.

But, he thought, if she was leveraging her attention on him, and her affection for him remained... maybe he could use that.

"No need to be so wary, darling," Squirrel purred. "It's just me. Do you know how much I fucking love you?"

He flinched, brows furrowing a little. He shifted a step back.

She wasn't one to freely swear, especially in such a bright tone.

Hurt flashed in her eyes. "You... don't, do you?"

His mind scrambled for a response. "I— M-my l—"

"That's okay!" she suddenly chirped, grinning at him. "I can fix that." She stepped closer. "I can fix that fear on your face. I can show you how far my love goes for you." Her hand emerged from her back and rose up. A click, and the blade snapped up. Her other hand pressed to her cheek, and the most terrifying expression of pure, blinded obsession darkened her eyes and creased her face. "You're sure to love me when I'm done," she added, voice deceptively soft.

Saeran swallowed hard. He dared to glimpse the entity behind her, and flinched. It had only gotten more horrifying: dark, vein-y strands criss-crossing its limbs; large, hollow abysses for eyes; an unending flow of thick, sludgy blackness dripping from its wide-open mouth.

And when he looked at her again, her eyes were wide with horror.

"I-I..." she strained. "I— c-c..."

"Squirrel!" He found his voice; it gritted against his throat with intensity. "Fight back! I-I know you can—! I— You-you're strong —" his voice broke — "and- and— Please, my..."

The entity's eyes were rimmed with red once more, and its shrill, throaty clicking echoed around the barn. Squirrel gritted her teeth, groaning in her effort. She held her head with her free hand, fingers tangling in her hair; one eye squeezed shut, but she forced the other open as much as she could.

"The... door!" she hissed out. "Device! Use th—" Her shaking hand dropped the switchblade, then dug into her curls.

His eyes darted over to the door, searching anxiously, desperately, for whatever she was talking about.

He saw it. Yellow light glinting off sleek black.

He glanced at her — If he ran, would it hurt her more? Or would he run out of time if he tried to be subtle?

"Argh! GO!" she forced out, squinting heavily at him.

He swallowed. He eyed the device once more.

He ran.

Her swift footsteps followed not two seconds later, hitting the wooden planks like a terrifying promise. He ran faster, reached the door; stumbled to his knees, swiped the device, whipped around — she was close, too close, just a few meters away. He aimed the gun past her, at the faintly-screeching entity, and desperately searched for any indication of which freaking button was the trigger mechanism.

She was nearing — her hands free of any blade, but he knew her bare hands were skilled enough.

He didn't want her suffering any guilt.

Screw it.

He didn't have time to think anymore. He picked the one that looked right and pushed his thumb into it as hard as he could.

Right as she threw herself at him.

The energy palpably charged up within a mere second — and she was in the air, hands reaching out — and the lights around them were pulsing — and the entity's mouth was dripping red — and Saeran couldn't breathe — and, finally, the build-up of energy burst from the gun in a single, concentrated point.

The kickback threw him off balance, but Squirrel's body collided with his before he could fall. Her hands trapped him in an expert grapple, sending them both rolling to the ground.

Her laugh rang in his ears when the dizzying movement stopped; her manic grin hovered over him.

"I've got y—!"

The entity's shrill, agonized shrieking ripped through the air. Squirrel went tense, fingers digging into his shoulders with a painful grip. Saeran's head was throbbing, the entity's awful screams reviving the pain from his earlier hit to the head.

But the mania was absent from Squirrel's tense mien. The inky tendrils on her face and neck were retreating. The glowing purple was fading from her eyes.

Her nails pressed into his skin through his shirt. She began to tremble. Her jaw clenched. Approaching tears dampened her eyes.

She was too paralyzed to express it, but she was suffering absolute agony. The same seering hot fire from her earlier escape purged through her veins, her bones, her muscles, along her skin. Her eyes were melting under the flame; her tongue was boiling; her skin was turning to ash.

All she could do was stare down at her lover, at his pained wince, at his bruised face.

The screeching stopped, the metallic taste left her mouth, its heavy smell cleared from her nose. The entity was gone for good.

Squirrel collapsed.

He felt her limp weight fall onto him, felt her fingers loosen from his shoulders. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her. It wasn't until the lingering throb in his head passed, though, that he could properly acknowledge her.

He exhaled shakily, fingers digging into the back of her shirt.

"I-it's over, right?" he murmured.

She didn't respond. Not a mumble, not a twitch, not even a sigh.

Icy fingers crept up his spine. His throat felt tight. "Squirrel?" he quavered. He clutched her shirt tighter. He couldn't lift or turn his head to see her face, not with how she had fallen, her cheek on his shoulder, her face turned away. "My l-love?" He could barely raise his voice.

He could barely breathe.

Stay— stay calm. Stay... Just feel. For her breathing. J-just...

His fingers released her shirt; his hands rose higher on her back. He held his own breath, and waited.

A faint rise and fall.

Relief swamped him so immensely that he had to shut his eyes for a moment. "Oh, God," he breathed, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He felt like he might cry. He pulled her a bit higher, buried his face in her hair and— a tear slipped down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Mhn..." She stirred, her hands slowly cupping his upper arms. "S...S...Saer...an?" she rasped, weakly nuzzling his shoulder.

He tried to say her name, but all that came out was a soft sob. Alarmed, she forced herself up (shaking) to look at him. He peered back at her, eyes brimming with quiet tears, and a couple dripping down his face. "S..." Her mouth wasn't cooperating. She lifted her hand to hold his face, but the loss of leverage had her falling again. She caught herself, her palm meeting the hay-strewn boards beside his head, before sinking back down, hiding her face in his neck. He tightened his hold on her again, one hand drifting up to shakily comb through her unkempt hair.

"My love," he whispered finally, sounding choked. "Oh, my love, y-you're okay... you're okay..."

She hummed softly, sinking further into him.

"Y-you're—" Another sob interrupted him as it all settled in. Everything that just happened, everything they had just been through, and everything from the last couple of days. That it was a close call; that it was over now.

That this was the sort of danger she faced regularly.

He didn't like it. He hadn't liked it when she explained it, but he wasn't going to tell her what to do with her life. It was obvious she loved her job, and she handled it all well — and Saeran, more than anyone, understood the importance of freedom in life.

But now that he had faced it himself? Seen the risks? Felt all that fear? Well... he was having second thoughts.

Squirrel shifted again, pushed herself up despite his insistent grip. For a moment, he resisted (wishing she would just hold him back just as tightly; aching for her reassurance that she was alright, that everything was alright), before forcing himself to release her. She moved off him, sat next to him with her legs tucked under her, one knee brushing his flank.

He watched her face closely.

She wasn't looking at him. But her eyes were narrowed, more focused — blanker than ever, and yet that blankness contributed to a hint of irritation. Her jaw was set. Her fingers loosely gripped her thighs.

Her eyes lowered, suddenly, to her lap. To her bruised hands. For the briefest of moments, she paled, a haunted look in her eyes — then it was gone, leaving her looking restrained, closed-off, tense.

...Saeran's hand, resting over her knees, ached to hold her painful-looking hands, or her face, but...

Her eyes glanced over his. She was still silent.

"...Pilot?" he whispered.

She stared at her trembling hands again.

She cleared her throat quietly. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I... don't know what to... do here."

"What do you—?"

"There's no true protocol to follow," she answered hastily. "Everything's... taken care of."

Saeran wasn't sure how to respond. But the fact that he was speaking with Pilot... concerned him.

When he spoke, it was barley above a strained whisper. "She's not okay, is she?"

Pilot's eyes darkened, but she wasn't looking at Saeran. "No. She felt too guilty and overwhelmed. She just... pushed me out here. Am I..." Her eyes flitted over him, over his face. Her hesitant face turned a little pink. "Am I supposed to... comfort you? You look... worried."

"Don't worry about me," Saeran murmured, slowly sitting up and facing her.

"But she is. She's worried. And she pushed me out here, so it's my duty to do something about it."

He cautiously reached his hand out — a gentle request, one she could turn down. "Don't feel forced, Pilot... You suffered through all that, too."

She eyed his hand warily. "I've told you..." Her words died out. She grabbed his hand (in an admittedly uncomfortable grip) and pushed it down quite forcefully — then held it firmly to her lap, her eyes finding his and piercing through his skull. He found his heart in his throat, worrying he had just screwed up.

"My duty is to take over whatever is too much for her. There's no 'feeling forced' here." She leaned back an inch, her grip loosening and her features softening. "...Yeah, of course I was there. I took over here and there, but she kept getting pulled back to the front. I'm used to stuff like that entity... So is she, of course, but it's... different. I'm the one who gets to process everything. She gets to treat it like it happened to someone else."

The compassion and sorrow creasing Saeran's features had her quickly taking her hand off his. "Don't start— d-don't say something nice. I'm supposed to... supposed to comfort you... Argh, what does she do? How do I..." She trailed into mumbles.

"Pilot, please don't ignore your own suffering," Saeran urged. "It was... terrifying to see you go through that..."

"See?" She jolted forward, snatching his hands again. "Exactly! I need to comfort you. My words are no good, clearly, but she has other ways, right? Like, like—" She hesitated, then leaned up and quite literally crashed her lips against his. Startled, he let her, but didn't quite reciprocate.

It hardly lasted a few seconds, anyways.

Her narrowed eyes met his. Her face stayed close, just a few inches away.

"Is that not it?" she mumbled, her eyes searching his. "Or does it not work, because I'm not her?"

"No!" Saeran blurted, squeezing her hands. She leaned back a little. "I- I love you like I love Squi—"

"That's not what I meant," she interrupted, averting her eyes. (He swore her cheeks were a little pink.) "She's better at emotions. That's all I meant."

"Pilot," he said with a sigh. "You don't need to cater to me. But... if you want to comfort me right now, I... I would... I would like to hold you. And, ah... for you to hold me..."

She was a little quiet for a moment, then gave a small nod. "She likes that."

He perked up unintentionally. "She's listening?"

"Of course she is," Pilot almost barked, biting her tone down at the last second.

"Um... but are you okay with it?"

"Obviously. Squirrel's okay with it, so I am too. I just might not be as good at it."

"Right..."

"So?" She rose a brow. "Do I... er... hug you?"

"Ah... I'll show you, my love, here."

Her face flushed a little, but she didn't make any comments. She just let him tug her a bit closer, let him wrap his arms around her... She held him back, rested against his chest, her ear to his heartbeat. She knew that usually calmed Squirrel down.

She felt Squirrel creep up like a kicked puppy; she hesitantly took motor control, adjusting and securing their hold on Saeran, pressing closer to him, bringing one hand up to loosely toy with the hair above his neck.

Hesitation. Even as Saeran sunk into their perfect hold, Pilot and Squirrel were at a standoff. Squirrel was considering her return; Pilot was considering slipping away.

But, a few moment later, Squirrel retreated, the burden of guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders. Leaving Pilot to figure out the rest.

Saeran exhaled shakily, somehow sinking even further into her. Pilot's heart was in her throat as she maintained her hold, as she forced her body to relax and stay that way.

And everything that had just happened — now and earlier — flashed through their mind, from start to end.

...Maybe it was kind of... a lot. Even for Pilot. And maybe Saeran's arms around her did feel good. Maybe his heartbeat was comforting to her, too. Maybe her eyes were slipping shut, and relaxing became easier, and she, too, sunk into him.

Or maybe that was just Squirrel's influence. But did it really matter?

One hand left her back, suddenly, and — naturally — she sensed its movement in the air, until it buried into her hair. She began to stiffen a little, until he took a steadying breath and his hand moved again: his fingers combing through her tangled hair.

She squeezed him— No, that was Squirrel, drawn back in a little from his gesture. She still lingered back, nervous, but her presence was stronger than before.

"My love," he murmured hoarsely, and for some reason, chills spread along Pilot's skin. "We should... go back."

We should. This barn lingers with the taste of metal, Pilot thought.

And the fresh memories, added Squirrel.

Pilot exhaled and all the work to get her body relaxed dissipated. She pulled away. Saeran held her tighter, pulling her back — a choked, panic noise escaping him (and Squirrel's yelling echoing in their mind: "DON'T LEAVE HIM.")

Pilot huffed and tugged against his resistance (ignored Squirrel's pleas). Saeran managed, through a small, stuttering voice (so different from the one he had just spoken in), to speak up: "Ple-please, Pilot, please, I—! I-I need t-to, to, to... to—!" His words jumbled up.

And I need you to stop touching me.

Pilot pulled again, and this time his hands gave away. She moved away from him a few inches, ignoring the pitiful expression he sent her, ignoring Squirrel's internal freak out (if Squirrel was so concerned, why didn't she just come out and do something about it?).

"Pilot..." came his soft, pleading whisper, and she could feel his eyes on her, see in her peripheral his hand half-reach out.

But her skin was crawling, and her chest was tight.

The memories lingered here, indeed.

Did they both forget that Pilot was the one left to deal with these sorts of problems? Ones related to entities and mind-bending? Sure, this time was a bit different (Squirrel would have no choice but to face some of the brunt herself), but that didn't change much for Pilot.

Not that Pilot cared, but she needed her space to properly deal with it.

WHY RIGHT NOW?! Squirrel snapped.

A slump of a body and a rustle of clothes. Pilot glanced over to her left. Saeran had laid back onto the old wooden boards, one hand clutching at his chest, his eyes squeezing shut.

There was a sudden, almost audible growl in Pilot's right ear, and then a nearly palpable pressure around her throat. In their mind's eye, Squirrel was now directly in front of her, a fierce snarl on her face, and her hands wrapped tightly around Pilot's neck.

You're lucky I can't actually FUCKING KILL YOU.

Squirrel threw Pilot out of the driver's seat and loomed over her, leaving them empty for a moment (leaving their body to slump forward like a limp doll).

I THOUGHT I COULD ENTRUST HIM TO YOU. Squirrel's thought-shouting rang around the space.

She whipped around and stalked away to the front.

Pilot dusted herself off, unfazed. She wondered how long Squirrel's instability would last — if it would even become Pilot's problem. For now, Pilot put it on the back burner. She had a job to do.

Squirrel jolted as she came-to, realized she was facing the wrong way, and turned to her left. Without a moment's hesitation, she crawled the short distance and grasped the hand over his chest.

Saeran's eyes flew open. He drew in a sharp breath. "Y-you're back," he breathed, and she was about to let him know they had switched, when—

"Squirrel," squeaked from his mouth in a half-sob, and his other hand reached out to cup her cheek. It guided him to sit up, and she helped him — shifting closer all the while.

When his hand was on her cheek and hers were on his upper arms, he still clutched one side of his chest: a grounding method, she knew, but seeing it dropped another inkling of guilt into her soul.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and tried to say what for, but too many things came to mind. She felt the threat of tears burn her eyes. "...Th-there's so much to... to be s-sorry for... For everything, Saeran. And for Pilot's actions. That wouldn't've happened if I—"

Wasn't such a coward.

But don't say it. Focus on him right now. Don't fall into self-pity.

"You're here now," he whispered, palm lightly rubbing her cheek — the side without the sting, whatever was causing it (a cut, perhaps, or a bruise). His eyes weren't on hers; rather, they seemed to be taking in all the black-and-blue-and-red additions to her face. "None of that was your fault," he added in a hoarse mutter.

Her heart was pounding and she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way he still seemed a little distant — the way his eyes weren't quite focused. A stone of guilt lodged into her throat.

"Saeran," Squirrel choked out. She cleared her throat. "Saeran. Ray. D-duckie, please..." Her hands slid to his chest, one grasping his shirt and the other resting over his hand. "Are you here... with me?" she rasped.

Slowly, his mint blue hues (gorgeous despite the exhaustion evident within them) drifted to her eyes. "...A little," he said, with what looked like a bit of a struggle.

Idiot. Your fault.

Stop. Now is not the time.

She blinked back tears and lifted her hand on his shirt to the one cupping her cheek. "C-can we leave here? Are you... able? If we stay in here, I..." She didn't know how to finish.

...His eyes cleared suddenly, but not in any way that brought her relief. No, they intensified, as did his hold. "D-don't leave me," he demanded — and then it all slipped away into nerves and anxiety.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she whispered, voice breaking a little. "I'll, uh... carry you. How about that? You'll... you'll be closest to me like that."

Again, his reply took longer than usual. But she swore a brief smile crossed his nigh-haunted expression. "I'd like that..."

"Okay." She pulled his hand off her cheek and held it tight; moved her other hand to his other arm, and with some maneuvering, they both got to their feet.

Another mumbled, "okay," escaped her on a breath as she mentally debated whether to carry him in her arms or on her back. Just as she reached her conclusion, however, his hand squeezed hers. She looked up at him curiously — in time for his hand to fall from his chest and reach for hers. She let go of his upper arm to take his hand.

Saeran was smiling gently at her, but she could see the trouble behind his clear eyes. She swallowed tightly.

"Ah, um... I need my hands t-to carry you," she fumbled out. She didn't want to face her guilt right now.

"I know, darling." He sounded more present, now, too. His smile softened further. "But I think I should carry you instead."

She blinked a couple times. "Um... I'm stronger."

A quiet chuckle, yet his happier features strained. "You... collapsed not long ago, my love. Let me have this..."

Her throat tightened again. She nodded quickly and jerked her gaze away. Her skin tingled with unpleasant warmth. Her teeth gritted together against welling emotions.

Saeran's hands left hers, reappeared at her back, and guided her closer to him.

He was holding her. She shakily held him, too; and he held her tighter and tighter. And his fingers combed her hair. And his murmuring voice filled her head.

I don't deserve this comfort right now.

But Squirrel despised the thought of resistance.

...She was getting dangerously close to tears. She was shaking in his arms. Her breathing was far from steady. He gave her a light squeeze and told her it was okay to let out whatever she was feeling.

It nearly broke her. But, ironically, she was a little too nervous and scattered and paranoid to be pushed over the edge.

"Not here," she managed quietly. "N-not right... now."

"That's okay," he told her, and pulled back to kiss her forehead. She couldn't look up at him — not until his hand brushed her hair from her face, thus drawing her attention. His warm smile felt undeserved, but she appreciated it all the more. "Let's go back," he said, echoing his earlier words. "We'll be okay, Squirrel, my love."

Saeran didn't know why she was out, but he hoped it wasn't something terrible. He only really saw her whenever Squirrel had to "recalibrate," but that wasn't what was happening here. Because she was standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding one steaming mug in each hand, and staring tiny daggers into his very soul.

Had he... done something wrong?

He tried to think. He wracked his brain — had Squirrel seemed upset lately? Well, she had been stressed due to her new Trainer assignment, but she hadn't ever expressed any frustration at him.

His uncertain eyes took in her stiff form once again before settling on her tense face. He swallowed and hoped it was subtle.

"H-has... something happened?" Saeran asked quietly. He tugged nervously at a belt loop.

Her eyes darted to his shifting hand in a millisecond — like they never moved. She drew in a wavering breath and released it slowly. Her dry lips parted — her tongue wet them — and she spoke: voice rough, steady, and matter-of-fact.

"Yes."

"Oh." To be honest, he hadn't been expecting that answer. Wishful hoping, he presumed.

His hand found his collar, gave it a few fidgeting pulls. He found his voice.

"Ah, um... What... what was it...?"

He was one step away from asking if he had done something wrong, but he had been learning, over the last year, to not give into that insecurity.

She cleared her throat quietly, and her piercing stare finally fell away. Still, her tense posture and strange expression had his heart racing anxiously. He settled his hand over it, loosely clutched at his shirt, and felt some reprieve in the familiar action.

Her eyes were on his hand once more, but this time, they softened ever so slightly.

Pilot looked at his face again, then sharply looked away.

"Work problems," she answered tersely. Her gaze hesitantly passed over him. She took a few stiff steps closer.

She was starting to look less intimidating and more... uncertain.

"How bad?" Saeran prompted. He was certainly relieved to know that he wasn't the source of the problem, but that didn't take away from the fact that he didn't really know what it meant for Pilot to be out like this. The only time it had happened before had been... "bad," to put it lightly.

"...Bad enough for me to be stuck here," Pilot mumbled, again shuffling closer. "But it's not what you think," she added, raising her voice. "Probably." She stood just a few feet in front of him now. Their gazes locked again, and hers wasn't quite as sharp as before. "It's cumulative."

That didn't settle his worries much at all. If it was cumulative, that meant Squirrel hadn't been taking care of her mental health in one way or another. Whether she was downplaying her stress to him, pushing down certain things entirely, or anything else, it chipped at his heart. He knew she liked to keep work and home life separate, but Saeran still wanted to be there for her. And if not him... she had an on-site therapist to talk to. Was she not utilizing that?

He was well aware that sometimes emotions and mental states snuck up on people. That sometimes things felt fine, that one had no idea how bad things really were. And that, sometimes, talking things out just wasn't enough.

But this was total whiplash for him. He knew she had been stressed, but from his perceptive perspective, she still seemed to be fairing better than the month after they escaped Mint Eye. She had seemed... a little off, but again, he equated that to the stress she vocalized.

Saeran couldn't help feeling guilty that something this big had slipped through his fingers so easily.

"Hey—" Pilot stepped closer again, hesitation more evident than ever on her face. But it melted a moment later, and she held out one of the steaming mugs. "Don't give me that face, okay? We d— She doesn't want you feeling guilty about this."

He slowly accepted the mug from her, his fingers brushing over her hand as he did so. He didn't miss how she turned a little pink as her hand retreated.

"Hot chocolate," she blurted, nails clinking against her own mug. "I... I know you like it, s-so... I figured it would help. Uhm..." She exhaled and stared down at her dark drink.

Saeran's chest warmed pleasantly; a smile curved his lips. It was really sweet of her to try and bring him comfort like this. The guilt still lingered — he would have to talk this through with Squirrel later — but this gesture helped settle his nerves for the time being. "Pilot..." he started softly.

"Sorry." Her eyes darted to his. "I'm not used to... this. Having to, er, interact, uh... normally."

"You're doing fine," he assured her, offering her a warm smile. "It's a really thoughtful gift, Pilot. Thank you."

Pink dusted her face again. Her eyes averted. "Ah, um... Y-you're welcome." She hastily put the mug to her lips, sipping quietly from the sweet drink. Her eyes met his for a split second — and more color filled her cheeks.

He chuckled softly and took a sip of the special treat. It was almost too hot, but he could still perfectly taste the balance of dark chocolate, melted marshmallows, and cinnamon-nutmeg sugar. Just how Squirrel made it — of course.

"Thank you," he said again, lowering the mug. "It's perfect."

She hid her expression in another sip, and by the time she lowered the drink, she had retrieved her blankish mien. "That's good. So, uh... I'm going upstairs. This body needs to rest, as much as I hate sitting still. She'll be back around soon, I'm sure," Pilot added. "It's been a while since she pushed me out, and, uh... I can feel she wants to be with you."

His heart fluttered at the admission. His ears felt warm. "Well, n—"

"You can join me in the meantime," she cut in, looking a bit uncertain once more. "If you want. I understand if you don't, though. I'm... not opposed to doing the things you and Squirrel do. But I don't understand them. So you won't get much from me."

He smiled softly. "That's okay. I like being with you just as much. You're another part of Squirrel; I love you the same."

She grimaced, cheeks flushing, and he wondered if he shouldn't have said that.

"Er, sorr—"

"Don't," she interrupted, stuttering slightly. "It's fine. Just... strange. Not words I ever hear."

"Oh, Pilot..." His heart sank to his stomach, and it showed in his empathetic features. Like so many other times, she pounced on that in a heartbeat.

"I'm not human. I'm the part of her that is not even the slightest bit human, Saeran." (It felt so foreignly familiar to hear Pilot say his name so flatly.)

He shifted closer. "But that doesn't mean you can't be loved..."

She eyed him up again and tightened her grip on the warm mug. "I don't... feel things."

Well, that was a lie. He knew what she was getting at, but that was a blatant lie.

"And, besides our work team, people don't really know I exist. So, don't feel sorry for me. I'm just here to carry out a duty."

His eyes met hers, holding so much warmth and sorrow and compassion and effortless love. She had to tear her eyes away before she caved under that overwhelmingly lovely stare.

"Do I have permission, regardless, to love you?" he asked softly — and though his words sounded like a jab, his tone was wholly genuine.

She sipped her hot chocolate, lowered it just under her lip, ignored her warm face, and replied, "Yeah." Another long sip from her drink; more ignoring that prickling warmth.

More trying to ignore the pure, unabashed love in those gentle mint blue hues.

"I'm glad," he whispered.

"So!" she exclaimed abruptly, wanting to escape the fluttery feeling in her chest. She pointed, arm extended, toward the stairs. "I'll be there. You can join me. I... I'll probably watch something. I want to work out, but... this body needs rest. Squirrel, uh... yeah. She'll be out eventually. Maybe in... an hour. Maybe sooner. There isn't much predictability with this."

"I'd love to join you," Saeran told her quietly. "And I hope Squirrel knows that she can take all the time she needs."

Pilot nodded curtly. "She's listening."

He smiled.

Within her, she felt Squirrel sigh and sit back. Her tugs had been weak — a sign that she didn't entirely protest to being kept down a little longer. She needed the break, they both knew. Which was why Pilot had resisted her little nudges.

It most certainly was not because the way Saeran smiled at Pilot made her feel something new and warm and pleasant. A rare feeling, especially one reaching so deeply.

🍂 — Yes! She loves hugs. Squirrel is big on physical affection. She's physical with most of her friends, whether through a friendly punch to their arm, laying on their lap, sitting snug next to them, etc. (This also extends to literal physical fighting ("sparring") but that's for another day.) She often holds hands with her closer girl friends, too.

She's less physical with her family, sticking to hugs, high fives, stuff like that. She doesn't have any family her age, so she's not rowdy or physical with any of them like she can be with her friends.

For strangers... Well, assuming this was a situation like... on a college campus, where she's comforting someone she encountered and was openly having a bad time, or maybe a classmate she's just getting to know, she would keep away from physical contact. She doesn't do that until she understands someone's comfort levels, and she doesn't like asking people about it. Unless it's, say, someone she's been talking to and she feels like she and this person get along well, and a specific situation arises where it makes perfect sense to ask if they are okay with X Brand of physical contact. Otherwise, she prefers to pick up on it through body language and other cues.

I've been sticking to physical forms of affection up until now... because I just realize it doesn't specify 💀. But! that's fine. I'll gladly get more detailed for her and Saeran~

// How does she show him affection?

It's just about every page in the book.

Physical Touch: Again, you could say anything and 91% of the time, you'd be right! Hugs, hand-holding, various kisses, sitting close, cuddling/snuggling, laying on each other in various ways... even a playful punch/shove to the arm (it's her special brand of affection). Physical affection is often very grounding for her, a natural comfort — and something that became even more of a necessity after taking on her job (a lot of entities play mind games and trickery). Feeling the details of his palm pressed to hers, or the shape of his shoulder against her cheek... it gives her the extra confirmation that he's really there, she's really with him, and things really are okay (if only in that moment).

Acts of Service: She likes to do things for him, too. She balances this out for both their sakes, but especially because she knows he wants to do a lot of things himself with his newfound freedom. But whenever she gets the opportunity to fulfill even a desire as small as craving an apple, she jumps at it. She likes, even more, when she can identify on her own whether he might need something — and the delighted surprise on his face when she provides that thing.

Another branch of it, this one tied to physical affection. If he just wants her to sit with him, or lay with him, or hold him, kiss his face, encourage him, etc. Whether he asks or she simply identifies, she loves getting those chances. Perhaps her reasoning here is a bit selfish, but it makes her happy that she gets to provide him comfort or grounding or whatever other reason he asks her these things.

Words of Affirmation: Big one. BIIIG one. For the most part, she's good at letting insults and name-calling slide right off her back (which is why she could so quickly see through Suit's aggression), with the exception of a few trigger words, but with compliments... I think the best way to put it is that she's never gotten "numb" to the compliments she receives over and over again. Each time, even if it's from the same person, she's at the very least wholly appreciative. She gets little tastes here and there throughout her life of how warm and happy compliments make her — especially when it's compliments on things she works hard on.

Gift-giving: She loves buying things for people already, so of course, that would extend to Saeran tenfold. Especially during their vacation post-AE — I imagine there was a lot of, "I bought something for you again!" between them haha. But yeah, in general, if she sees something she thinks he'll like or find useful, she'll buy it for him. A few months in, that gradually includes anything that reminds her of him (as long as it won't be too much of a "dust collector." She doesn't like too much stuff about, and it's ingrained in her to be thoughtful about even the smallest purchase. So, she's still smart about her purchases, but often, "It'll make Saeran smile" is a good enough reason for her haha).

Words of Affirmation: She tends to compliment people whenever she can, so of course this applies even more so to Saeran... Except... she does struggle at first, at times, with working up the nerves to say compliments — flusters herself easily. (Which Saeran finds adorable.) But she loves to shower him with all sorts of sweet words, especially since it's somethin he has pretty much lacked his entire life.

// How does she like to receive affection?

(I'll try and keep this short; I wrote the "words of affirmation" section before this, and damn... this post is long ^^;;) She's not picky, as long as she's getting some form of consistent attention, but she does have her preferences. Quality time, words of affirmation, physical touch. She likes the surprise of receiving gifts, even if it's not something tangible. It's the surprise part and the thought behind it all that excites her the most. Quality time is pretty self-explanatory...

Physical Touch: She's definitely really nervous about it at first — doesn't want to overwhelm Saeran or herself. But over time, as they both get more comfortable, she finds she does really like holding hands, his hugs/him holding her, and sweet little kisses (around her face, on the lips, etc.). Again, not super picky here. Anything he does makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside hehe.

So, when Saeran comes around? with all his lovely words and endless compliments and praise? She hardly knows how to handle it all. It's overwhelming, but in a way that makes her giddy.

There's also a factor of confirmation. Even if she logically knows something, her emotions are often stronger, and her mind will easily twist things if she lets it. So, hearing a confirmation from someone usually settles all those doubts. This applies with Saeran, too, even more so — and despite her hesitation (feeling bad for asking again; not wanting to come across as doubting him; not wanting to sound insecure), he'll say it all again a thousand times and never get tired of it. She's forever grateful.

🌠 — Not gonna lie, I wasn't entirely sure what qualifies a character as Baby, and... I'm still uncertain 😂

But... if Ray is like a 9 out of 10 on the Baby scale (the dark parts of his thoughts & the definitely-less-than-innocent sides that show through (in all of AS) knock him down from 10. He isn't quite naïve enough, nor truly innocent enough to be a full 10, IMO)... then, I'd probably rate Squirrel around... a 7? Maybe 6.5. In terms of purity, she's never kissed someone, held them affectionately, etc. before Saeray. Hand-holding makes her blush every time for quite a few months. She's also really into physical affection, just wants to be near Saeray, hold him, be held by him, and is really sweet and nervous about it. Struggles to verbalize "I love you" for a while, although she really wants to.

Buuut she's also got her own dark parts — and she's modest and holds conservative (not politically-speaking here) relationship values, but she's not sheltered. Not like Ray was. She also has a more abrasive side to her: one more cynical and sarcastic.

You scored pretty close! But I think I would put her around a 7. Feel free to let me know if I misunderstood this rating system! :3

Pre-relationship 4:

Saeran. Without a doubt. Even when he thought Pilot and Squirrel were like Ray and Saeran, he still considered that, in a way, an "extension" of the girl he loves. And that didn't change when the nature of Pilot's relation to Squirrel was finally explained in a way that he could comprehend. (The concept is a bit abstract.)

I'll explain a bit about Pilot here. There's different versions of her for different scenarios. Pilot is Squirrel's agent name, and as it became more and more clear that Pilot had a large presence during Squirrel's agent work, Pilot adopted the name, thus giving her something of an identity. This was only to benefit Squirrel. Pilot is quite literally an advanced form of compartmentalization, brought about as "side-effect" of the nature of their powers. And now that Squirrel was taking on regular, mind-bending tasks, that more distinct separation became necessary.

All that to say that both Squirrel and Pilot are sort of "in the driver's seat" during her work. It's usually Squirrel just letting a different, more eccentric and carefree side of hers show, and Pilot hovering over her shoulder as back-up to absorb mental blows and establish a presence — so that Squirrel can call this different in what she presents "Pilot."

There's also the Pilot that emerges when Squirrel needs to "recalibrate." She usually lays on the floor, on her back, and just lets herself drift away a bit. Squirrel can still see and hear everything that happens, but Pilot is the one now sorting through their thoughts — letting Squirrel let go for a bit to, well, "reset" herself and feel better/reenergize/regain confidence/etc. That Pilot usually pulls out that "eccentric" persona, heard since she talks out loud to sort things out. She's interacted with Saeran that way at least once. (In fact, as of right now, I have that scene written and it's his first introduction to Pilot; something that Squirrel wasn't thrilled about but had no control over. This might change in the future, though.)

And finally, there's the true Pilot. The Pilot that comes out in those rare times that Squirrel gets triggered so badly she just shuts down. Or when she's so stressed, or panicked, or in any sort of extreme or overwhelming emotional distress, and she can't deal with it — so she pushes Pilot to the front, because Pilot can deal with these thoughts, and Pilot will protect her, and Pilot is... is a stone wall. In more ways than just a tough shield lmao.

Pilot carries some aspects of Squirrel; Squirrel carries all aspects of Pilot. Pilot is so different, though, because of what she lacks and because of her role. She didn't, at first, truly share Squirrel's love for Saeran — because that wasn't exactly an emotion that caused legitimate problems for Squirrel's health, nor was it an emotion that she required to complete her role.

She did, however, have a sliver of Squirrel's visual/aesthetic attraction towards Saeran. Because, all wrapped up together, every single category of Squirrel's feelings towards him that ultimately turned into this full, whole-hearted, complex idea called love — it did get overwhelming for her at times. A good sort of overwhelming, but nevertheless.

So, Pilot could recognize the aesthetic appeal of Saeran to their mind, but she ignored it once she could see it wasn't a problem. Pilot is... sort of... robotic? In the way her part of the mind functions and the way she makes decisions and such. I mean, she's quite literally, too, the only part of Squirrel that can be called "fully alien."

Over time, more and more of Squirrel's feelings for Saeran began to seep into Pilot (Squirrel likes to think, although it's "grossly cheesy," that it's because she wants all of her to love him. She's probably right). Which eventually results in Pilot having this very obvious "crush" on Saeran — one she tries to ignore. (Once, she even scolded Squirrel for "contaminating her with an emotion she's not responsible for." Squirrel cheekily responded that love can turn people dangerous — wouldn't it be best if Pilot knew how to protect both it and Squirrel in such context? Not that Squirrel truly has any control over this happening.)

Sidebar: As mentioned in Hot Chocolate, Pilot doesn't mind "doing the things Saeran and Squirrel do" (i.e. kissing) but there's really no point to it since there's no real emotion behind it on Pilot's end; she's just mimicking behavior. This gradually changes as more of Squirrel's emotion slowly infiltrates her.

Pre-relationship 5:

I kind of touched on this in the prior ramble (lmao, sorry), but yes! Pilot ignores it as much as she can. Saeran is very respectful (if not also cautious) with her. She's a little unpredictable and doesn't always respond in ways that could be deemed "normal."

To a degree, Saeran resisted internally as well! When it became clear that Pilot didn't feel the way Squirrel did, he wasn't sure if it was okay for him to love her so much (he didn't want to make her uncomfortable). Although he was still very kind to Pilot, he tried to suppress any indications of his romantic feelings for her. This didn't last very long, though, as Squirrel took notice (she shares memories with Pilot, even if she's not consciously present for the occasion) and brought it up, telling him it was okay to feel that way for Pilot, too. :)

Pre-relationship 7:

This is a bit of a tough one to answer with just Pilot? But I found a way to interpret it: if Squirrel never shared Pilot with him. Well, it would be hard to hide sometimes, and it would mean this icky feeling of secrecy and disingenuity(?), as well as guilt on Squirrel's end. Ultimately, it would be a disaster of a horrible lack of communication, and although it would be possible for them to stay together and work things out when everything blew up, it's slightly more possible that Squirrel would feel too guilty, like there's something seriously wrong with her mental state (b/c this wouldn't be very like her at all), and she'd at least suggest leaving him so he can find someone better than her.

...M,my heart aches now ㅠㅠ

But!! If you mean straight-up, Squirrel and Saeran...! Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, that's also angsty :'D

We all know how it goes for Saeran. Another extra year of torment from Rika and Mint Eye, and then Deep/Common Route.

Squirrel wouldn't be miserable, but she would probably struggle sometimes with the relative consistency in her life. And she does want a boyfriend — an eventual life-partner — and yet, the nature of her job would make it difficult. She wouldn't have as great of a support group, because her other friends, while close, don't have that same, seemingly unbreakable "family" bond that the RFA has.

Living alone with her two cats, running a podcast with her friends, failing to find someone she likes enough to date, dealing with the mental struggles of her work nearly on her own, as she steps into her second year of work...

...but then maybe, one day, a year later, she gets a sudden notification from a mysterious app, a mysterious guy... and when she's standing before the door with the number lock, and she tries — too late — to back out of this, she finds herself face-to-covered-face with a dangerously handsome stranger. [cue "assistant?" au—]

LOL but fr, Saeran would for sure have it worse. Squirrel would have some struggles of her own — maybe at some point quit working as an agent, or go part-time for her mental health — but she would survive life.

Maybe even start working part-time at a late night café, where she meets a quiet, blank-faced, and unendingly cute redhead with stunning mint blue eyes...

...I have too many AUs hehehe ^o^