Love is attachment with courage.

  It’s what makes mortals brave enough to give pieces of themselves away.

  Knowing they might never get them back.

  Kindness is optional.

  Love is not.

  Love will stay when logic screams ‘leave’.

  Choose one over many.

  Burn the world just to keep a single connection intact.

  Love does not promise happiness.

  Love promises meaning.

  Mortals can be destroyed and still say,

  “It was worth it.”

  Record Eleven - Lia

  “Give it back!”

  A small voice rang across the playground.

  A kindergarten girl, barely tall enough to reach the monkey bars, jumped again and again, arms stretched upward. Her shoes scraped against the sand.

  Above her, a fourth-grade boy stood on the low climbing frame, holding a rag doll high over his head with both hands. He laughed loudly, sharp and careless.

  “Giive it baaack!” she shouted again, voice cracking.

  The boy leaned back dramatically.

  “Nooo.”

  “Why are you even playing here? This is the big kids’ playground.”

  She frowned, eyes burning. She jumped again. Missed again.

  “Give it back. It’s mine!”

  The boy took a step forward and shoved her.

  She stumbled.

  Her foot caught on the edge of the slide ladder. The world tilted. She fell hard onto the sand with a soft, ugly thud. Her elbow scraped across the ground, skin tearing. She sucked in a breath that turned into a quiet, shaky sob.

  “Heeeey!”

  Another voice cut through the air.

  Another kindergarten girl, a bit older than the other girl, came sprinting across the playground, hair flying behind her like a flag.

  She slammed into the boy with both hands.

  The boy yelped. Lost his balance. Fell backward onto the sand. The doll slipped from his grip and landed beside the slide.

  “Tch.”

  She clicked her tongue dramatically, turning her head away from the boy like he wasn’t even worth looking at.

  Then she picked up the doll, brushed sand from its stitched face and walked to the younger girl.

  “Here.”

  She placed it back into her arms.

  Before she could say anything else, the boy grabbed her hair.

  She screamed. The boy screamed too.

  Other kids watching the scene yelled. Others cried. The noise tangled into chaos.

  Moments later.

  The older girl sat at the top of the slide, legs dangling. One eye was already swelling dark and purple. Her lip hurt. Her head hurt.

  She was smiling.

  In front of her, the younger girl crouched low, clutching the doll to her chest, tears streaming down her face.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, voice wobbly.

  “Hmm..” the girl on the slide hummed, tilting her head as if thinking really hard. “I didn’t win…”

  She paused.

  “But I did punch him,” she added proudly. “Once…or twice…I think.”

  The crouching girl cried harder.

  “Hey,” the girl on the slide said. “What’s your name?”

  The younger girl wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

  “Mina,” she sniffed.

  She smiled wider, despite the bruise.

  “My name is Lia.”

  She hopped down from the slide and stood in front of her.

  “From now on,” Lia said firmly, “We’re friends.”

  ... PRESENT ...

  Lia leaned against the counter, her elbow propped up, her cheek resting in her palm.

  Want to go to that ?

  The words echoed again in her head.

  Her thoughts raced back to how calm Elos had been when he asked.

  Together.

  A small giggle slipped from her before she could stop it.

  She hadn’t really answered him. Just a weak little, I’ll think about it.

  He’d then walked to the cafe with her afterward. Ordered a latte to go and left.

  Mina.

  The thought came heavier. Her smile faded, just a little. She worried about her. A lot. Maybe too much. The idea of her best friend alone at night after what had happened to her sat wrong in her chest, tight and stubborn.

  She sighed softly, fingers circling against her cheek.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey… excuse me, miss.”

  The customer’s voice snapped her back to the cafe. She startled slightly, straightening up.

  “Oh … sorry!” she said, shaking her head lightly.

  “What can I get you?”

  The rest of the day passed in a blur.

  Orders taken. Cups washed. Smiles given on autopilot.

  Early evening crept in quietly.

  The light outside shifted. Shadows stretched longer across the floor.

  She closed earlier than usual.

  Hands moving fast now. Chair legs scarping softly, lights switched off one by one. Her apron came ff in a rush. She grabbed her bag and stepped outside, locking the door behind her.

  She pulled out her phone.

  Three contacts. That was it. Her hand hovered, then tapped.

  Mina.

  The call rang.

  No answer.

  She frowned and tried again.

  Ring. Ring.

  Nothing.

  Again. Still nothing.

  Her chest tightened.

  Mina never didn’t answer. Ever. If one of them did, the other would call back almost immediately. It had always been that way. Always.

  She started walking faster. Then jogging. Then running.

  Her shoes slapped the pavement as she cut down toward her apartment building. The street blurred around her, breath coming sharp and uneven, thoughts spiraling.

  Please. Please be okay.

  She turned a corner.

  And slammed straight into someone.

  “Oo… sorr…”

  She looked up.

  “Mina?”

  Mina blinked at her.

  “Lia.”

  Relief hit her so hard it almost hurt.

  She reached out immediately, grabbing Mina’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks as she searched her eyes, her expression tight with worry.

  “Are you okay?” she blurted out. “Why is your phone off? I called….”

  “I’m okay,” Mina said gently, smiling a little. “Don’t worry.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  She didn’t let go right away.

  “Why are you in such a rush?” Mina asked, teasing.

  “Did you miss me that much!”

  She didn’t answer. She studied her face carefully. Her eyes. Her expression. The way she was standing.

  Silence stretched.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Uh … I was coming to you,” Mina said. “I wanted to walk you home.”

  Lia exhaled, the tension slipping out of her shoulders. Mina stepped forward and hugged her, arms warm and familiar.

  “Let’s go home.”

  She hugged her back, then pulled away just enough to look at Mina one last time. She sighed, soft and quiet.

  They turned and started walking.

  Her arm linked through Mina’s, holding on like she wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.

  The streetlights flickered on above them, one by one, casting long shadows that followed them all the way down the road.

  Still walking, shoulders brushing, footsteps in lazy sync.

  The wind picked up. A sudden gust swept Mina’s hair loose and flung it straight into Lia’s mouth.

  “Pft… pft…”

  She sputtered, stopping short, hands flying up as she tried to spit hair out of her lips.

  Mina burst out laughing.

  “Oh god… sorry…!” Mina wheezed, holding her as support.

  “Hold on,” She said quickly.

  She grabbed Mina’s arm, stopping mid-step. She stepped in front of Mina, way too close.

  Mina leaned back slightly. “What?”

  She leaned in, gathered a section of Mina’s hair in her fingers… and sniffed it.

  “Mina.”

  “Mmm,” Mina replied, looking away, suddenly very interested in the streetlights.

  She reached up, pinched Mina’s cheek and gently turned her face back.

  “Did you use my shampoo?”

  “No,” Mina answered quickly. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Silence.

  Just the wind. A passing car. Mina not meeting her eyes.

  Then Mina slowly reached out… and took her hand. She looked at her. Smiled.

  And bolted.

  “HEY…!”

  Mina took off down the side walk, laughing so hard she almost ran into a pole.

  “GET BACK HERE… !”

  She chased after her, bag bouncing at her side, nearly tripping on a patch of loose gravel.

  “YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER !”

  Mina cut left, jumped over a shallow puddle and skidded dramatically like she was in an action movie.

  The apartment building came into view.

  Mina reached the door first, skidding to a stop. She slammed her hand against the panel.

  “Fuck!” mina groaned and slowly turned around.

  Lia stood a few steps away. chest heaving. A key card pinched neatly between her fingers.

  “Fine, I used it,” Mina sighed, lifting both hands in surrender.

  “I used it.”

  Then Mina stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tight.

  “It smelled soo good,” Mina mumbled into her shoulder. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “Mina.”

  “Hmmm.”

  She squinted at Mina. “You’re also wearing my clothes.”

  Mina gasped fake-offended. “Ooooh? Really?”

  Mina leaned in, scooching close until her lips were right by her ear.

  “I’m also wearing your…”

  She immediately swung her bag.

  Mina ducked, cackling and sprinted toward the door.

  “Sweetie, you don’t have the keycard!” Lia shouted waving her arm. “Come back here.”

  Mina stopped. Turned around slowly. Smiled. And lifted her hand.

  The key card.

  Beep.

  The door unlocked. Mina slipped inside and the door shut behind her. She stood on the other side, smiling proudly through the glass.

  She walked up slowly. Soft smile. Soft voice.

  “Minaaaa.”

  “Mmmm?” Mina replied.

  “Open the door.”

  “Say please.”

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  She twitched. She inhaled. Exhaled. Composed herself with great effort.

  She stepped closer, placing her palm flat against the glass.

  “Please open up,” she said quietly. “I promise I won’t do anything.”

  Mina’s hand softened. She raised her hand and pressed it against the glass, lining it up with Lia’s

  She leaned in, breathing slowly, fogging the glass with her breath. Then with her free hand, she drew a crooked little heart in the mist.

  She whispered, barely audible through the door.

  “I love you.”

  Lia twitched.

  Then

  Beep.

  The door was unlocked.

  A random tenant had just swiped their key card and walked in.

  Mina yelped. She backed away.

  Step. Step.

  Then turned and sprinted toward the stairs.

  “MINAA..!”

  She charged after her, bag winging, laughing and shouting as Mina disappeared up the stairwell, their voices echoing through the building like two kids who absolutely refused to act their age.

  They were inside the apartment now.

  Behind the bedroom door. Voices.

  “Why were you wearing them?” Lia’s voice, incredulous.

  “What’s wrong with that?” Mina shot back easily.

  “We’re best friends, right ? What’s yours is mine.”

  The door creaked open.

  The two girls stepped out together, wrapped in towels, hair soaked and dripping from the shower they’d taken moments ago. Water dripped onto the floor in little trails behind them.

  Mina sat at the edge of the bed, leaning back on her hands, shoulders relaxed.

  Lia climbed onto the bed behind her, kneeling and draped a smaller towel over Mina’s head. She begun drying Mina’s hair gently, careful fingers working through damp strands.

  “So,” Mina said casually, reaching toward the mini fridge beside the bed.

  She tugged her back when she leaned too far.

  “How was your day?”

  She froze.

  Want to go to that.

  The memory hit her.

  Her face burned. She shrieked silently and slapped her cheeks, trying to snap out of it.

  Mina glanced back, tilting her head up to look at her. Their eyes locked. Then Mina turned fully, squinting.

  “... Why are you so red ?” She asked, smiling, studying her face like it was a mystery.

  “I’m not red!” she muttered, trying to turn Mina back around.

  “Tell me.” “What happened?’

  She hesitated, then

  “... He asked me out,” she said quietly.

  “Huuh?”

  “He asked me out !” she blurted. “Well… I think he asked me out. Did he ask me out?” she added quickly, staring at Mina.

  Mina leaned back slightly, lips curling into a soft smirk.

  “Hmm…”

  “Who asked you out?”

  “Elos… I don’t know if he asked me out but he… “

  “Wait.” Mina interrupted, gently pressing a finger to Lia’s lips.

  “Elos?” Mina said. “Who’s that?”

  “Huh? I already told you about him before,” she frowned. “The guy from the cafe. Mina…”

  “Aaah. The weird guy you always stare at. The one who wastes our lattes.”

  “Yes. That one.”

  “Hmmm… he asked you out!”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know!”

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled flier.

  “He asked if I wanted to go see the fireworks together.”

  She held it up.

  “Do you think that’s asking me out?”

  She collapsed backward onto the bed with a dramatic groan. She buried her face into the pillow, legs kicking uselessly.

  “Soo,” Mina said calmly, “what did you say?”

  She rolled onto her side. Mina was now lying beside her, their faces close. She reached out brushing Mina’s hair back.

  “I didn’t say anything. I told him I’d think about it. He said he’d be waiting there…If I chose to go.”

  Her expression softened.

  “.…But I don’t think I should.”

  “Why?”

  She cupped Mina’s cheek softly.

  “I don’t want to leave you alone. Especially after what happened. I want to stay with you.”

  Mina stared at her for a moment. Then lifted her hand, paused it just long enough to build suspense.…

  And flicked Lia’s forehead.

  “Go,” Mina said, smiling. “You obviously like him.”

  “I do not.”

  “yes you do. Look at your face.”

  She grabbed her cheeks in defeat.

  “I’ll be fine, “ Mina said gently. “you should definitely go. Besides… “

  Mina smirked.

  “You’re going to regret it if you don’t.”

  She looked at Mina one last time. Then shot off the bed and skidded to her wardrobe.

  “What should I wear then?!” She shouted, yanking open her wardrobe.

  She grabbed a handful of outfits and dumped them in a pile in front of Mina.

  “Okay. Judge.”

  Mina picked up the first item. A bright oversized shirt.

  “No.”

  The second . A long dress.

  “Also no.”

  A blouse she clearly hadn’t worn in years.

  “Absolutely not. Why do you even own this.”

  “You gave it to me.”

  Mina smirked and leaned over the pile, digging through it like she was searching for buried treasure. Finally, she pulled out a simpler outfit. Clean. Soft colors, nothing dramatic, but somehow very Lia.

  Lia held it up.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She took it and changed quickly.

  Mina nodded once, satisfied.

  “There. Perfect.”

  Lia shifted, tugging the hem nervously.

  “Are you sure…?”

  Mina knelt up on the bed. Gently. Rubbed Lia’s hair affectionately.

  “You look pretty.”

  Shoes became the next battle field. Eventually, Mina pointed with final authority.

  “Those.”

  Moments later, Lia was fully dressed.

  She smiled gently. Then moved to the fridge and quietly slipped a few things into her shoulder bag.

  Mina scooched over, leaning so close her head hovered on Lia’s shoulder. “What you doing?”

  “Nothing. I…I might get hungry,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

  “Hmm,” Mina hummed, clearly unconvinced.

  Time to leave.

  Lia stood at the door. Stayed there. Shifted her weight. Then suddenly turned and dashed back, pulling Mina into a tight hug, face pressed into her chest.

  “Call me if anything happens, okay?” she said quickly. “I’ll come back right away.”

  “Mmm,” Mina replied, hugging her back.

  She pulled back. Hesitated.

  “Love you. Bye.”

  “Love you too.”

  The door closed behind her.

  Outside.

  Lia hurried down the street, breath already uneven, bag bouncing against her hip.

  I hope he hasn’t waited long.

  Her steps sped up.

  What if he was only joking.

  She shook her head and picked up the pace, weaving past people. Lights bloomed ahead.

  Her chest tightened as she spotted him.

  Relief hit first. Then panic.

  She lifted her hand before she could stop herself.

  “Elos!”

  He turned.

  How does he always look so calm.

  She rushed toward him, realizing halfway that she’d sprinted way too fast.

  “Sorry,” she blurted, stopping just short of him. “I’m late.”

  She straightened, trying to breathe normally. She could feel the heat in her face, the way her sweater clung just a little from the rush. She hoped she didn’t look stupid. Or sweaty. Or both.

  He was staring. Not subtly.

  Her stomach flipped. He blinked, then smiled softly. Faintly amused.

  Her heart skipped in a way she did not approve of.

  She followed his gaze downward without meaning to and realized she was staring at the couples passing by.

  Everywhere. Yukata flowing.

  Heh..

  Why is everyone dressed like that…?

  “It’s Tanabata.” he said.

  “Huuh!” she exclaimed. “I totally forgot!”

  She glanced around again, embarrassed. Then frowned.

  “But the flier said fireworks.”

  “It’s from the studio sponsoring the show. They just timed it with the festival.”

  “Oh… “

  She nodded, pretending that this everything.

  It didn’t.

  Her thoughts wouldn’t slow. Her fingers curled into the hem of her sweater, twisting the fabric as she sighed quietly.

  “Wait here.”

  She looked up.

  Before she could ask why, he stepped past her, slipping away. Gone.

  She turned in place, heart jumping.

  Did he leave?

  Did I do something wrong?

  Minutes stretched. People flowed around her. She stayed exactly where he’d told her to, hands clenched in her sleeves, eyes darting nervously.

  Then, he was back. He held something out toward her. Folded fabric.

  “For you,” he said. “you can wear this.”

  She stared.

  Huh…?

  “There,” he added, pointing calmly to an empty stall behind them .”You can change in there.”

  She looked from the fabric to him.

  Then at the couples.

  Then back at the fabric.

  She took the fabric and clutched it close to her chest.

  Her face burned. She didn’t even ask where he got the yukata. She just nodded. And turned.

  He stayed behind, shifting slightly to stand where he could see the stall’s entrance. Turned outward, like a quiet wall between her and the world. No footsteps following. No curious glances sneaking in.

  The stall smelled faintly of wood and paper. She slipped into a corner and crouched, pressing her back against the thin wall. Her face was still too hot.

  She fanned her face with both hands, then gently slapped her cheeks.

  Her reflection in the dull metal of a pole looked back at her. Eyes bright. Cheeks pink.

  She changed quickly, folding her clothes into her bag.

  The yukata fit her like it had been waiting for her.

  Not tight. Not loose. The sleeves just right, brushing her wrists when she moved. The fabric was light but held weight, soft with age. Antique.

  Deep indigo washed with muted sliver, like moonlight caught in dye. Along the hem and sleeves, faint patterns bloomed. Tiny stars and thin branches, barely visible unless the light struck them just so.

  She tied it carefully, fingers fumbling once, then twice.

  She swallowed. Then stepped out.

  He was standing there with his back turned.

  Her heart thudded painfully. She lifted her hand, reaching toward him. Her fingers trembled inches from his shoulder.

  Tap him.

  She couldn’t. Her hand hovered there useless.

  Then he turned. Slowly. Like he already knew. His eyes traced her. From the fall of the sleeves to the way the fabric settled around her frame.

  She looked down immediately, gripping her bag with both hands.

  His hand reached out and took it from her without a word.

  Then, simply,

  “Let’s go.”

  She nodded and stepped beside him.

  The crowd swallowed them almost immediately. Lanterns overhead, voices overlapping, bells chiming softly whenever someone brushed past a stall. The paper lanterns swayed above like warm stars, their light pooling over the street in gold and red.

  She noticed it after only a few steps. His pace matched hers exactly. Enough that her stride no longer had to adjust, no longer had to hurry or hesitate.

  Her heart did a stupid little flip.

  She kept her hands folded in front of her, sleeves swaying gently as she walked. Every now and then, someone’s gaze lingered on her. Soft glances, quiet admiration. A woman nudged her partner. A child stared openly.

  They stopped at the first stall.

  Colorful strips of paper fluttered from bamboo branches. Tenzaku, wishes written in careful handwriting. Some messy, some shy. A sign above explained the tradition in looping letters.

  “Write a wish,” the vendor chirped.

  She hesitated, fingers hovering over the brush.

  What do people usually write?

  Her wish was small. Simple.

  She didn’t show it to him.

  He didn’t ask. They moved on.

  The next stall was a game. Ring toss. Bottles lined up in neat rows, prizes gleaming behind them. She watched him pick up a ring, then casually tossed it.

  Perfect landing. The bell rang. The vendor blinked. He tried again. Another perfect throw. By the third win, the vendor was squinting at him suspiciously. She covered her mouth, laughing.

  They left with a small prize bag in her hands and the faintest hint of amusement tugging at his mouth.

  Next came goldfish scooping.

  She crouched beside the water, sleeves carefully held back, tongue caught between her teeth as she tried to move the fragile paper scoop slowly.

  It tore instantly.

  She groaned.

  He watched her struggle for exactly two seconds before trying himself.

  He dipped the scoop. Lifted.

  A gold fish shimmered in the paper like it had decided to cooperate.

  Then another.

  Then another.

  She dragged him away before he accidentally emptied the entire stall.

  They passed a shooting gallery next. Wooden targets shaped like moons and rabbits lined the back wall.

  She nudged him. “Bet you can’t win this one.”

  He took the toy rifle.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Three targets fell in a row.

  The vendor sighed dramatically and handed over a soft, blue stuffed rabbit. Which he gave to her.

  She lost count of how many games they’d stopped at.

  He won. Every. Single. One.

  Children stared up at him with betrayed expressions. Vendors blinked, checked their stalls, blinked again.

  Her arms were full. Charms, fans, tiny plushies, candy bags, paper prizes dangling from strings. At some point she had to hook a bracelet over her wrist just to keep it from falling.

  He bought a a large paper bag and relieved her off the pile. He folded the top of the bag neatly and lifted it with his other arm, her shoulder bag still at his other.

  They shared skewers of grilled food, standing shoulder to shoulder. She burned her tongue and hissed. He handed over a drink without a word.

  They continued to a small food stall tucked between two lantern-lit tents.

  Steam rose as the vendor handed over the food, the smell rich and warm. She held the bag carefully with both hands, the paper warm against her fingers.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  She did.

  They slipped away from the noise, past the last string of lanterns, until the sound of laughter dulled and the music faded into a distant hum. The ground changed.

  Stairs.

  A long flight of stone steps stretched upward, half-lit, disappearing into shadow.

  She stared.

  Then sighed.

  “... We’re going up there?”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced down at her shoes.

  Thin soles. No grip. A perfect recipe for humiliation.

  “Elos…”

  She didn’t finish.

  The ground vanished.

  Her breath caught sharply as her body lifted, weightless for a heartbeat before she realized.

  His arms.

  One arm under her knees. The other steady at her back. Secure. Effortless. Both hands still carrying the bags.

  Her mind went completely blank. Her fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of his sleeve.

  “...!” she made a tiny sound and then froze, too stunned to even protest.

  He started climbing.

  Each step was steady. Unhurried. Like she weighed nothing at all.

  The night air brushed her cheeks. She could feel the warmth of him through the yukata, the quiet strength in the way he held her. Careful, deliberate, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

  She didn’t look at his face.

  She couldn’t.

  Her ears burned. Her heart thudded so loudly she was convinced he could hear it.

  So she stayed silent.

  Perfectly still.

  Hot and quiet and absolutely not okay.

  The stairs ended.

  Grass replaced stone.

  He stepped onto soft earth and stopped. Then gently. Gently. Set her down.

  He feet touched the grass. She turned away immediately, pretending very hard to look at the view.

  In front of them stretched a small field. Grass swaying softly, dotted with wild flowers that caught the moonlight like scattered stars. Below, the festival glowed.

  “We can sit here,” he said calmly.

  She nodded quickly, still facing away, pressing a hand to her cheek as if that might cool it down.

  It didn’t.

  They sat there for a while.

  Elos leaned back on his hands, arms stretched behind him, palms pressed into the grass. His posture was relaxed.

  She sat beside him, but not quite beside him. A careful distance. Legs folded neatly under her, back straight, hands resting on her thighs. Her fingers curled into tight little fists.

  “We’ll see the fireworks best here,” he muttered, more to the night that to her.

  She turned.

  The moonlight washed over him.

  His white hair caught the light and shifted gently in the breeze, strands lifting and falling .His blue eyes reflected the sky. Clear, deep, almost luminous.

  Calm. Sharp. Beautiful.

  The kind of face that made it hard to breathe if you stared too long.

  Which she absolutely did.

  Her heart jumped straight into her throat.

  She snapped her gaze down and immediately slapped her cheeks again. Once. Twice. Soft but desperate.

  Breathe. Breathe.

  In. Out.

  “..Are you okay?” he asked.

  She felt his attention shift. She could feel him looking at her.

  “Heh…! Yes! I’m fine,” she blurted out.

  Smooth. Very smooth.

  She remembered.

  She reached for the bag beside her. He’d placed it there earlier. And dug through it.

  “I brought this,” she said, pulling out snacks. “I thought we were only going to watch fireworks. I didn’t know it’d be a festival so I packed this in case we got hungry.”

  She handed him a canned soda with both hands.

  “Thankyou,” he said simply.

  They sat.

  Time stretched.

  The wind moved the flowers. The noise from below softening into a distant hum.

  Minutes passed.

  Heh...

  Did we come too early…? Or did they cancel the fireworks…?

  Her shoulders slumped just a little.

  Then

  FWAAAH.

  The sky exploded.

  Color bloomed overhead. Brilliant streaks of light tearing through the darkness. One firework, then another, bursting open like flowers made of sound and flame.

  Her breath caught. She turned to him instinctively.

  He was watching the sky, face calm, unreadable, the light reflecting in his eyes. Blue turned gold, then red, then violet.

  She stared.

  Too long.

  The fireworks thundered above them, but the world felt strangely quiet. Her chest felt tight. Warm. Full.

  “Elos.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I love you.”

  The words escaped.

  Clean. Clear.

  He turned.

  And the moment stretched.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Heh…

  What did I just say.

  Her thoughts crashed into each other, loud and panicked and absolutely useless.

  Her face burned. Her fists clenched tighter.