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The rumor took hold on Monday morning in biology as fast as only bored teenagers texting could make it. By the end of lunch, half of the senior class was buzzing about it and the other half were trying to catch up. The only person who said nothing about it was Gerome, because Gerome never said much about anything.
Owain burst into the student council room, backpack and cell phone in hand. "CYNTHIA," he shouted, and the girl nearly fell out of her chair.
"WH-"
"Did you hear? About Inigo?!" Owain asked, waving his phone around before pulling up a chair next to her. Cynthia straightened her pink sweatshirt and looked at her flustered friend.
"I mean, yeah, but that's gotta be just a rumor," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's just… it's Inigo. He talks like this all the time! There's no way he actually - what was it, again?" She checked her phone. "...yeah, there's no way he actually hooked up with a college boy at a party. I don't think Inigo's even had his first kiss yet." Placing her phone back down, she looked back over to Owain, who was practically splayed out on the table. His cheek pressing against the table top made his frown even more pronounced, although it was more of a cute pout than anything else. "Anyway, what's got you all gloomy?" Cynthia asked, poking him in the side. He jerked upright, twisting away and squeaking.
Owain blew his breath out through his lips, running his fingers through his blonde hair. "It's stupid. Don't worry about it. Hey, you're still coming over my place after school, right?" he asked, and was met with a nod from his friend.
"Yup! I just have to finish up some student council stuff with Laurent, but I'll bike over when I'm done." The pair pretty much always went over to one another's houses when school was over (or barged their way into Gerome's), but Cynthia generally preferred when they went to Owain's. Her dad had a tendency to be a little... on edge when it came to the noise levels she and Owain produced. Owain's mom and dad either didn't care, or had been so worn down by their son that they just couldn't care anymore.
Also, Cynthia's dad got all weird when they closed the door to her bedroom. Honestly, having him believe they were making out or doing drugs or whatever he assumed was less embarrassing than admitting to what they were actually doing on any given day, which was generally writing stories about their blatant self-insert original characters or crying as they watched Kamen Rider together.
"Okay," Owain replied as he sat upright. He looked at Cynthia like he was going to say something else, his thumb idly flicking at the spinner ring he wore on his index finger, before seeming to shake himself out of it. "U-Um! I-I'll see you later!" he stammered, grabbing his backpack and darting out of the room just before the bell rang.
Cynthia could only frown as he left, filled with worry.
***
"Cynthia? Are you still with us?"
The sound of Laurent's gentle, authoritative voice snapped the girl back to reality. "Hmm? Oh, y-yeah! Totally! I was just..." She looked up at the whiteboard where Laurent was carefully writing out a to-do list for planning the senior prom, holding a marker between his slender fingers and staring at her patiently over the rim of his glasses. He looked far more like a teacher than any 17 year old had a right to, always impeccably dressed in button-ups and khakis, without a single auburn hair on his head out of place.
Cynthia's cheeks turned pink as she slumped over in her chair. "Sorry... Owain was acting super weird earlier." She paused. "Not, um, the garden variety of Owain weird either. Almost like... he was sad? Or upset? Either way, I'm really worried about him." The girl sighed.
"I see. The two of you often spend time together after school, correct?" he asked, lowering the marker from the board. Cynthia nodded. The entire school knew about Cynthia and Owain being practically attached at the hip, but the student council was an especially tightly knit group of friends. When Owain wasn't busy with the drama club, he often sat in on their meetings, and was fondly regarded as something of an unofficial member. No doubt Laurent, Lucina, and Nah were also concerned - Lucina especially so, considering he was her cousin. The three of them exchanged brief glances.
Laurent cleared his throat. "I believe the rest of us can handle today's tasks," he said, and was met with nods from Nah and Lucina. Cynthia and Owain were always at their best together, anyway. Nothing would get done if she was too busy being worried about him.
Lucina offered Cynthia a reassuring smile, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Let us know how he's doing, alright?" Her voice and her smile were always so calming - Cynthia could already feel the knot of anxiety in her stomach starting to unwind. Lucy was one of those rare types of people who was genuinely liked by every clique in the school, and it was easy to see why.
"I'll email you your to-do list after the meeting," Nah chimed in, looking up from the laptop where she was diligently taking notes. Cynthia grinned and gathered up her notebooks into her backpack, pulling on her leather jacket.
"You guys are the best! Thanks a bunch. I'll be sure to help out more next time, I promise!" she said, her voice already full of her usual cheer again. She practically ran out of the classroom, giving a final wave, and darted to her locker, retrieving her motorcycle helmet before heading to the parking lot. She'd go to Owain's, they'd talk about whatever was bugging him so much, and spend the rest of the afternoon watching Kamen Rider until she had to go home. Cynthia shook her hair out of the pigtails she always wore, wrapping the hair elastics around her wrists before putting on her helmet and straddling her motorcyle.
Everything would be normal. As normal as it could be for the pair of them, anyway.
***
Cynthia's bike signaled her arrival from down the street, and even as she removed her helmet in Owain's driveway she could already see his mother opening the front door to wave at her. The girl combed through her brown hair with her fingers, pulling it back into pigtails again before stepping inside.
Owain's house was always cleaner than Cynthia’s - her dad really did try to keep the place neat, but her mother just had a way of undoing all his work near-instantaneously somehow. Not that Cynthia herself was much better, of course. But the house Lissa and her husband Libra kept was tidy and cozy, as warm and inviting as the family who lived inside it.
"Hi, Cynthia!" Lissa greeted, pulling the girl into a tight hug. Cynthia was over so much that she was practically part of their family too, and she happily returned the squeeze before taking off her backpack. "Owain's upstairs in his room." Running a hand through her hair, his mother continued in a hushed tone, "Kiddo seems a little off today. Is everything alright?"
Cynthia couldn't help but frown, her brows knitting with worry. "I dunno. I'm gonna go see what's up," she blurted out before practically bolting up the stairs and down the hall, throwing open the door to Owain's room.
The boy was sitting in front of his computer, an episode of Kamen Rider Fourze (Cynthia's favorite) playing on his monitor. He'd swapped his jeans out for pajama bottoms, something he always did immediately after getting home from school. He was resting his head in his left hand while his right rapidly drummed on his desk, fidgeting in the way he always did when something was making him anxious. Or at least, he had been until Cynthia burst in the door with all the urgency of an action hero looking for her love interest, causing him to practically leap out of his chair.
"Gah! W-What in Odin’s name is th--"
"OWAIN WHAT'S WRONG WHY ARE YOU SAD AND HOW CAN I HELP?"
The two stood there staring at each other for a moment in silence, gears in their brains practically turning audibly, until Owain let out an appropriately dramatic sigh. “Close the door.” Cynthia shut it behind her and discarded her backpack and jacket in a heap on the floor before sitting in her usual spot on his bed, looking at him intensely. He took his place next to her, and the two settled into their routine of looking at various spots on the floor instead of each other and talking. Avoiding eye contact made them both feel exponentially more comfortable, and often the pair would lie down next to each other and stare up at the ceiling while they spoke, occasionally stealing the odd glance at one another here and there when they got particularly excited about something they had to say.
"I'm not--" Owain paused, fingers tapping against his leg anxiously, "I'm not sad. That would be ridiculous. This would be a ridiculous thing to be sad about." Cynthia waited patiently for him to continue, but suddenly he had stood up again, pacing around his room and running a hand through his hair. His eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration as he seemed to search for exactly the right words before he laid back down on his bed, covering his face with his hands. "Why is this so hard to talk about?!"
Cynthia laid down next to him, the concern apparent in her eyes as she looked at her friend. "Owain, you know I’m not gonna judge you or anything, don't you?" With a small smirk, she gave him a light punch on the arm. "We only judge the wicked, riiiight?" He couldn't help but smile under his hands even as he rolled his eyes at her corny line, and he finally got the nerve to roll over on his side, facing Cynthia.
"It's about… Inigo," he confessed, his hands still lightly pressed to his cheeks. "You know how he tried to say he had a Canadian boyfriend all last year?" Cynthia nodded. "And how he kept saying he'd gone to--" Owain rolled his eyes again, "third base or... whatever." Cynthia nodded again, covering her mouth with a hand as she smirked at the light flush spreading across Owain's face. "Well, now... I mean, what if he's not lying? And now Inigo, Inigo, has more experience than I do at something! He's never gonna shut up about it!"
Owain picked one of his spare pillows up, shoving it down onto his face and mumbling into the fabric. "I can't hear you like that," Cynthia laughed, sitting up and pulling it out of his hands. To her surprise, her friend was blushing hard, pointedly avoiding her gaze and nervously flicking the spinning silver ring on his finger. He looked... nervous, again. "Owain?" she asked gently.
The blonde-haired boy put his hands over his face. "Promise you’re not gonna laugh at me!" he practically shouted, and she nodded vigorously.
"Of course not! Come onnnn, spit it out already!" she huffed, folding her arms as she looked down at him.
"I... I don't want to be worse at kissing than he is," Owain forced the words out, sounding like his embarrassment was causing him genuine physical pain as he chewed his lip. "Like, we're going to college soon, and maybe someone there will wanna do... that, and I won't be good at it, and it'll be horrible. It's not cool at all! So..." He paused again, drawing in a breath. "Maybe we could... p-practice." There was a second of silence as the proposal hung in the air. “LIKE, UM, LIKE TRAINING,” he stammered again, even as he pulled his blankets up over his head.
She promised she wouldn't laugh at him, so she didn't. Instead, Cynthia just tilted her head to the side and looked down at his fingers white-knuckle gripping the sheets. "That's it?"
It was not the response Owain was expecting. He lowered the blanket down, his curious blue eyes peeking out over the top. "Wh... huh?"
Cynthia smiled, playing idly with a strand of her hair. "Well, yeah! I mean, I've wanted to kiss you for a long time!" she said, like it was the most obvious, simple, matter-of-fact thing in the world, and Owain made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a screech.
"Th-that's...! Cynthia, what are you saying?!" he said, throwing the covers off him and scrambling to sit up in front of her, his eyes wide.
She looked at him like she was patiently explaining how to tie your shoes or reminding him of the proper rules for fall damage in Dungeons & Dragons, not confessing to a crush. "I tell you I love you all the time, dummy. Haven't you been listening?"
"But -- but -- but! But you tell Gerome and Laurent and Lucina and... everyone that you love them!"
"Because I do!"
"Do you want to kiss all of them, too?!"
"Oh, no! Just Gerome." Her casual, carefree grin never faltered. She blinked.
Owain's palm met his face.
"Listen," Cynthia explained, moving to take one of his hands in hers before feeling it was soaked with sweat, and gingerly released it. "Heroes love everyone. It's just how it is. And even without the hero stuff, I dunno! I guess... I love you all a lot! I'm not good at explaining it, but just because I love a lot of people doesn't mean what I feel is any less strong. But I really want to kiss you." She paused, rubbing the back of her neck. "And Gerome."
Wiping his sweaty palms off on his pajama bottoms, Owain couldn't help but laugh a little as the tension escaped him. "That's... so like you," he said, his smile returning to his face bit by bit. The two giggled nervously, sitting with their knees touching on his bed, and when the silence returned, Cynthia reached for his hand again.
"You're not upset that I want to kiss Gerome too?" she asked. It made perfect sense to her, of course, but jealousy was a strange thing, and she wanted to make sure everything was okay between them. Owain merely shrugged.
"Are you serious? Who doesn't want to kiss Gerome at least a little bit?"
The giggle fit resumed, and when it subsided, she looked at him again, a teasing smirk on her lips. "So?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You gonna kiss me or what, hero?"
Hands trembling, Owain reached out for her face and pulled her close to him --
and went in entirely too fast and their teeth bumped together and foreheads collided and Cynthia screamed before erupting into frenzied, hysterical laughter and falling back on his bed.
Rubbing his forehead, Owain mumbled, "This is why I wanted to train."