Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marriage.

Wise can still remember the days before he became such a movie enthusiast—before film reels and VHS tapes became a huge part of his life, before he analysed scenes frame by frame or quoted entire dialogues word for word.
Back then, it had been books. Stories. Fairytales.

He still loves them, of course.
He always will.

While the other boys in kindergarten were scraping their knees in the mud, chasing footballs and imaginary monsters, Wise had sat quietly at the teacher’s feet with wide eyes, listening to every word that she read from the colourful books in her hands. Their kindergarten teacher had a soft voice and a fondness for old tales—Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast—the kind of stories that always ended in the same way: with a kiss, a wedding, and that one final sentence that imprinted itself onto the back of his mind like it was written in ink.

“And they lived happily ever after.”

So even from early on, marriage had been synonymous with a promise of happiness, an ending that came after everything else.
A reward. A conclusion.

But for something to end… something needs to begin.
And Wise had grown up realising that this particular beginning—one marked by kisses, rings, and forever afters—was never going to be as easy for him as the stories made it out to be.

He doesn’t remember exactly when the fairy tales started to feel off.

Maybe it was later on in kindergarten, when he naively told the teacher he wanted to marry his best friend—a sweet, clumsy boy who always shared his crayons.
He remembered the way the other kids laughed. How the teacher gently corrected him, saying:

“ But boys don’t marry boys, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t understood why not. Only understood that something warm and simple had suddenly become… wrong.

Or maybe it was a few years later, when the boys around him started whispering about girls—giggling, ogling, rating them like numbers in a game Wise never asked to play.
He laughed along, sometimes.
But there was a hollowness to it. Their excitement didn’t spark anything in him.

Perhaps it was that first kiss—a clumsy, awkward peck with a girl at a birthday party, all teeth and peer pressure.
It felt like static. Like someone else’s moment.

Or maybe it was when he had his real first kiss… with a boy. Quiet. Unexpected.
A kiss so full of trembling truth, it made his whole body ache—an ache that would stay with him, in the best and worst ways, for years.

Perhaps it was even earlier than that kiss he shared in his last year of Helios Academy—before anything real had ever happened.

Maybe it was when he first started to dream.

The kind of dreams that left him breathless and flushed beneath his covers, heart pounding in the stillness of the night. Dreams that didn’t fade in the morning, and instead clung to his skin like ghostly fingerprints—lingering touches, a voice low against his ear, a warmth that made his face burn with something more than shame.

He remembered lying awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to will it all away, trying to forget how it felt.
How it felt so right.
How it made so much sense.

And how, even then, he already knew—deep down—that while his peers were fantasising about what they wanted to do to girls,
He was different.
Because he was fantasising about what it would feel like if a boy did that to him.

No fairy tale had ever prepared him for that.
No bedtime story had ever told him it was okay.

And his experiences only proved it—
That searching for that kind of happiness, that happily ever after, was just as hard as learning to accept himself.
That the joy promised in those stories came with pain, with confusion, with heartbreaks that didn’t always mend so neatly.

Because for people like him—
People who didn’t love the “right” way, who didn’t fall for the opposite sex like they were expected to—
finding someone to cherish, and to be cherished in return…
It felt less like a life goal and more like a fantasy.

A beautiful, impossible dream.

A dream quietly denied to someone like him.
Like the stories had never been written for him in the first place.

So, it was already a miracle that he had found someone like Lycaon.
Someone who loved openly and fiercely, with a heart that never hesitated and a smile that could warm even the coldest day. A partner who, if Wise was being honest, was probably more charming than any prince from those childhood fairytales could ever hope to be.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Lycaon said those words—
“If I could, I’d marry him right here, right now…”

And yet… it was.

Not because Wise doubted Lycaon’s sincerity. No, that was never in question.
But because, somehow, this topic—this whole idea—had never really taken root in his head.

Not once. Not even after all their shared moments, their quiet nights, their tangled fingers and breathless laughter.

He hadn’t thought about it.

Maybe a younger version of himself, the boy curled up in a blanket and eyes big with wonder, might’ve imagined marrying the love of his life right after their first kiss.
Maybe he would’ve thought that’s how it worked.
A kiss, a promise, a happily ever after.

But the Wise of now knew better.

He knew marrying someone wasn’t just about a single moment—it was hundreds, even thousands of moments woven together with effort, patience, and trust.

And yet… maybe he hadn’t changed that much after all.

Because the truth was—
The reason that idea had never crossed his mind wasn’t that he didn’t believe in marriage.
It was that, deep down, he believed—maybe a little too stubborn—that love was enough.

That love could overcome distance. Insecurity. Doubt.
That love could be the reason two people stayed together… forever.

Even if, sometimes, he found himself questioning that belief.
Even with everything he’d lived through.
Even with all the ways life had taught him to be cautious, to be realistic.

That belief, the quiet and stubborn core of it, never really left.
And maybe that was naïve.

Nevertheless, it didn't stop him from thinking that love didn't need paperwork or a public spectacle to prove itself. It was in the little things. The glances across the room. The coffee made without asking. The way Lycaon always treated him like he was something precious.

That should’ve been enough, right?
But apparently it wasn’t—at least not according to those words that had taken root so deeply in his thoughts.

“I’d marry him right here, right now…”

It had sounded so sincere. So certain. So simple.

And ever since, the thought wouldn’t leave him alone.

He’d read it in books so many times.
That quiet moment of clarity—when the protagonist would glance at their partner’s face one random morning and realise.
'This is it.'—
This is the person they wanted to cherish until the very end. The person they wanted to marry.

And then, in another chapter, another story—
There would be trembling hands, a heart pounding like it might burst, and then—
That breathless, nerve-wracked confession.
The love of their life, down on one knee, eyes locked like they could see straight into their soul, voice shaking as they said,

“I love you. Please… marry me.”

As if love naturally led to that.
As if marriage was the final proof, the finishing touch, the solid shape love was supposed to take.

But… if they truly loved those people so deeply, if the love was real and full and alive—

Why did they need to get married to prove it?
Was a diamond ring really more reassuring than years of quiet actions?
Was it more reassuring than holding hands on bad days and stubborn loyalty when things got hard?

And if Wise couldn’t understand that—
If he couldn’t wrap his head around the need for some formal promise, a contract in front of others...

Did that mean he wasn’t as deeply in love as he thought?

It gnawed at him in the quiet.

Even though the love he felt for Lycaon wasn’t some dizzy, butterfly-storm thing—it was steadier than that.
It had settled into his bones over time.
A love that didn’t burn hot and fast, but warm and slow—enduring

It wasn’t the kind of love that made him fear it would shatter by morning.
It was the kind that made him want to build a life around it.
Not just a love he hoped would last forever—but one he was willing to fight for, to make last.

That had to mean something. That had to be enough.

Didn’t it?

And yet… Lycaon was already thinking about marriage.

So why wasn’t he—
Why hadn’t it crossed his mind before those words had been said aloud?
Was he missing something? Failing to see a piece of the puzzle that came naturally to others?

It unsettled him more than he liked to admit, because usually he didn’t need much to understand Lycaon.

A subtle shift in his stance, a flick of his tail,  a twitch of those fluffy ears—those tiny tells were enough to piece together a full sentence in Wise’s mind.
And reading those little tells—reading him—had become second nature, like a language they shared in silence.
One he could read as fluently as the books he’d grown up loving—where every glance, every subtle shift in his composed face, every change in tone felt like turning the page to a new chapter.
Each moment spoke volumes, without needing a single word.

So why was it that actual words, an entire sentence that was spoken with so much tenderness, left him uncertain? Left him feeling like he was only holding half the meaning? Half the truth?

"I’d marry him right here, right now…"

He should have understood. Should’ve felt the weight of it without needing to sit in silence and pick it apart again and again.

But he didn’t.
And maybe… maybe that was his answer, too.

Because it meant he wasn’t done learning—
Not about Lycaon. Not about himself.
And certainly not about love.

So he made a decision.

If there was something he was missing—some piece of the picture everyone else seemed to grasp—then he’d find it. 
He’d search for the answer like a Proxy combing through Hollow data, decoding it into words he could finally understand.

Because for the first time, it wasn’t just idle curiosity.
It wasn’t about tradition. Or expectation. Or what people said love should look like.

Why do people marry each other?

It had become personal.
He needed to understand—because, for the first time, it wasn’t just a question worth asking.

It was a question someone had made worth feeling.
Someone who looked at him with such unwavering devotion.
Someone who, without hesitation, would marry him right here, right now.

So when Wise started his journey to find the answer he was looking for, like any other confused soul faced with a vague existential question, he turned to the most obvious source.

The InterKnot.

He wasn’t proud of it. But at the same time, he wasn’t particularly ashamed either.
If society could collectively scream their questions into the void of the network, why couldn’t he?

he sat curled up on his couch that evening, a coffee mug on the table, and his feet tucked under a blanket as he typed 'why do people get married ' into the search bar like it was a homework assignment he had put off for too long.

What he found was… underwhelming.

He scrolled through endless forum threads, blog posts, even a few relationship advice columns written with the kind of smug superiority only anonymous strangers could muster—
and the most common answer he found was:

'For the taxes.'

Some said it like a joke. Most didn’t. A few expanded it to legal benefits, shared housing, insurance reasons, and even easier paperwork for long-term leases.
One particularly dramatic user even claimed marriage was just 'a state-sanctioned social contract for resource sharing,'.

After a few more minutes, his eyes grew tired and unfocused. The further he scrolled, the less it felt like anyone was talking about love at all.

Thankfully, he wasn’t entirely alone in this.

With a soft chime, the little AI companion perched in the top corner of his screen—Fairy, of course—lit up with a soft glow and cheerfully chimed:
“Need some help sorting through the noise?”

Wise blinked, then sighed and leaned his chin on his hand.
“…Be my guest.”

Fairy's voice perked up with polite efficiency.
“Based on common searches and verified sources, the top three reasons individuals cite for pursuing marriage are:
One: Legal and financial benefits.
Two: Adoption and family rights.
Three: Emotional commitment and love.”

There it was, Love. Coming in third.

“…Third place,” Wise muttered under his breath, lips quirking into something between a smile and a grimace.

It wasn’t that he needed validation, but it was strangely disheartening to see something he’d always believed in so fiercely ranked just below tax paperwork and adoption forms.

He tilted his head back against the couch cushion, letting his eyes fall closed with a quiet sigh.
The silence pressed in gently, and with it came the thought—tired, uncertain, and low:
"So far, this isn’t helping. Not really."

His fingers still hovered above the screen, unsure of what he was even searching for anymore, when Fairy’s mechanical voice piped up again—cheery, oblivious, and far too eager to be helpful.
“Judging by current search patterns... Are you planning to propose? Does Second Assistant need help drafting a proposal script?”

Wise jolted upright, eyes snapping open. “No—Fairy, stop.”

There was a short pause.

“Acknowledged. Though I question the necessity of panic. You have already received a physical marker of commitment: A bite mark.”

Instinctively, Wise’s hand drifted up to to back of his neck—fingers brushing against the faint scar that had long since healed, but never faded.
His mind supplied the memory before he could stop it:

"Mine. I want it to be clear. That you're not just with me. That you're mine."

Those had been Lycaon’s words, spoken just before he’d sunk his teeth in—not with violence, but with something fierce and tender all at once.
A claim. A vow. A promise etched into skin.

The explanation had come later.
Not during a thunderstorm—but in the quiet storm caused by his own insecurities.
During a night when the only rain was the kind that slipped silently down his cheeks.

When he couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore—
When the weight of uncertainty—the future he couldn’t promise, the children he couldn’t give—finally broke him open.

He had crumbled under the fear of not being enough.
And Lycaon, steady even then, had only held him tighter.

Quieter. More vulnerable.

“This scar,” he’d said, voice low over the sound of thunder of his heart, “maybe as a human, you don’t understand the full meaning behind it. But it’s proof. Proof that I would never want anyone else but you.”

Now, in the vast ocean of questions rising to the surface of the present, the memory resurfaced within him—
And it was as vivid and steady as the scar itself.

Wise’s mouth moved before he realised he was speaking.

“…Never want anyone else,” he echoed, barely above a whisper.

Fairy hummed, as if calculating the emotional weight behind those words.
“For Thiren, such a bite is culturally significant. It is the equivalent of a human engagement ring. A physical, symbolic promise of lifelong loyalty. Emotional commitment and love.”

That stirred something quiet and fragile in him.

So Lycaon had already made a vow.
A vow in his own way.

Wise pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
If they already had that—if Lycaon had already made a promise, one carved into his very skin...

Then why did he mention marriage?

Was it just a drunken confession of love in the moment?
Or was it Lycaon’s own way of trying to translate his feelings into something humans could understand?
To take that fierce, instinctive devotion—the kind of love a Thiren seals with tooth and soul—and find a human equivalent.
A ring. A wedding. A vow spoken aloud in front of others. A commitment written down on paper.

A promise everyone else would recognise.

But… why—
Why would Lycaon even care about making it understandable to others?
And more importantly—should Wise?

Their love wasn’t a performance, wasn’t something that needed public approval to be real.
It was theirs. It was quiet, enduring, and sometimes messy.
But it was strong.

They had hidden their relationship for the longest time, tucked away behind subtle glances and stolen moments.

And Lycaon had never once complained.
Not even a twitch of an ear, not a flicker of discontent when Wise wanted to keep it between themselves.

He hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t pressured. He had just… waited.
Patient and steady as ever.

And when they eventually decided to make it public, it wasn’t because Lycaon asked—
It was because Wise had felt the time was right.
If there hadn’t been a reason to, Lycaon probably would have continued just as they were—loving Wise quietly, safe within their own privacy.

So no… It couldn’t be as simple as Lycaon wanting to prove his devotion in some human sense. It didn’t add up. That wasn't like him.
If he were seeking validation or recognition, he would've said something long before now.

Wise sighed, resting his chin in his hand as he stared at the InterKnot page still glowing softly in front of him.
“I’m getting nowhere,” he muttered under his breath, shoulders sinking slightly.

Still… if he had already opened this door, he might as well walk through it.

His gaze drifted back to the top three reasons Fairy had listed.
He barely registered the first—'finances'—before moving past it with a quiet scoff. It still baffled him how many people cited that with such straight faces, as if love could be measured in tax brackets.

Instead, it was the second one that made him pause: 'Family.'

Wise blinked at the word. It sat there, simple on the surface—but it felt… heavy. Not in a bad way. Just complicated.
What did it really mean to choose someone as family? Especially someone who wasn’t bound to you by blood?

He and Belle were family—by blood, yes, but also by the shared chaos of their everyday lives.
Running the video store side by side.
Stressing over the bills, especially with their AI assistant gulping down electricity like it was breathing air.
Belle teasing him with that relentless, sibling energy only she could wield—the kind that made him wish he could yeet that bubbly little gremlin into the next Hollow.
Only jokingly, of course—and always with a fond smile.

But their bond ran deeper than shared blood or playful banter; it was forged through shared pain, mutual grief, and an unbreakable determination.

To find what they once had lost.
To protect what they still had.
To never let the past repeat itself.

And together, they were determined to search for answers to the day that had changed everything.

He knew what family meant—someone connected by blood, and even more—but what did it truly mean to choose someone as family when there was no blood binding them?

The only person who came close to that definition was Carole Arna. Their teacher. Their mentor.
The one who’d taken in two bright, angry orphans and taught them not just how to decode Hollow Data or run algorithms, but how to live, how to think, how to ask questions the world wasn’t ready to answer.
She was the closest thing to a mother they’d had, but even now—
Wise still thought of her as their teacher. He never called her anything else. Didn’t know if he ever could.

His thoughts then drifted again.
To Yanagi and Soukaku.

They weren’t related by blood, but their bond was unmistakably deep.
The way Soukaku would sometimes say “Big sis” with such fierce affection, the way Yanagi shielded and guided her like a guardian…
There was something undeniable there.

He sat up a bit straighter, decision settling into his chest.

If anyone could shed light on what it meant to choose someone as family—not through marriage licenses or birth, but by something deeper—it would be them.

“Guess I know what I’m doing tomorrow,” Wise mumbled, closing the InterKnot window and stretching with a yawn.
He hadn’t expected this train of thought to get so personal, but… here he was.

Lost in his own mind, he then rubbed the faint scar at the back of his neck—the one Lycaon had left behind.

Yeah.

Time to figure this out.
One step at a time.

The next day, after clearing a few quick commissions to keep their funds afloat, Wise found himself headed towards the H.A.N.D. Headquarters, ready to corner Yanagi for a chat.
But the moment his eyes met the sunlight, he realised just how tired he actually was and decided to get his daily coffee fix before heading there.
Yet, before the familiar scent of roasted beans could even reach him, something blue and familiar caught his eye near the 141 Convenience Store.

Two horns. grey jacket. Big expressive eyes lit up like she was on a treasure hunt.

“Soukaku...?” he muttered to himself, slowing his steps.

She hadn’t noticed him yet—too focused on scanning the storefront with barely contained excitement, muttering to herself under her breath.

“Is this the place...?”

Wise raised a brow as he approached. “You looking for something?”

Her head snapped toward him, delighted. “Proxy, Proxy! It's you!”

He chuckled. “Yeah, it's me.”

“Can I ask you something?” she then asked, already bouncing on her heels.
“I heard there’s a convenience store on Sixth Street that sells limited-edition, super delicious red bean buns. Is this the one?”

A grin spread across his face as the memory of little Belle from the past came to him, and he answered,
“This is the one.”

“Wow! I found it!!!”

They then went into the store together, and after a bit of a frantic search, Wise barely managed to snag the very last red bean bun, passing it into her waiting hands.

“I... I got it!” she beamed, then frowned slightly. “But there’s only one...”

Wise blinked, confused. “Is it not enough for you?”

“It's not enough at all!” she exclaimed before waving her hands quickly.
“Wait, no, I’m not buying it for myself!”

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head. “You weren’t planning on buying it for yourself?”

“I wanted to buy it for Nagi…” she admitted, eyes dipping down to the small package in her hands.
“Even though Nagi doesn’t eat as much as I do, but just one... is it too little...?”

He watched her fidget with the bun like it was a fragile offering, and smiled.

“It’ll taste better if you only eat one,” he said gently.
“Yanagi will be happy—because it’s the thought that counts.”

She looked at him, then nodded slowly.
“Hmm… you’re right, but…”

Wise couldn’t help the small tug of affection in his chest.
There was something endearing about how seriously she was contemplating whether one bun was truly enough for Yanagi.
He felt a little bad for Soukaku, but he also knew exactly how to lift her mood.

With a gentle smile, he said,
“Well then… I have an idea.”

Soon enough, they were borrowing colored markers from Ask and grabbing crepe paper from the store’s tiny craft section.
With Wise’s help, Soukaku wrapped the bun as if it held all the treasures of the world combined. She scribbled a heartfelt message on a small card and stuck it proudly to the front.

“So pretty...!” she said, admiring her handiwork.
“It feels... like the red bean bun turned into... turned into... a gift!”

“You mean you bought it as a gift for Nagi anyway, but now it feels different?”, he asked, earning a nod from the little Oni-Girl.

“Yeah! I can’t quite explain it!”

She was beaming.
And Wise… well, something about that radiant simplicity softened a tight place in his chest.

It touched him how genuinely happy she was to have a gift for Yanagi. For someone she called by a nickname.
Someone she called “Big Sis.”
Someone she saw as family.

The warmth of that thought brought him back to the question still quietly echoing in his heart—
The question that had pushed him to step outside today, hoping the world might hold an answer.

“Hey… Soukaku,” he said softly, watching her gently cradle the wrapped bun like it was something fragile and precious.
“...You’re close to Yanagi, right?”

She nodded immediately, eyes still on the card.

“I’ve heard you call her ‘big sis’ sometimes,” he continued, curiosity tugging at his tone.
“Why do you do that? I mean… what makes her 'big sis' instead of just… Yanagi?”

Soukaku paused, thoughtful.
Then she glanced up at him with her usual straightforward honesty.

“Because that’s what she is,” she said simply.
“She looks out for me. Feeds me. Scolds me when I sneak snacks.”

She gave a little shrug, her lips curving into a bright smile.
“Besides, calling her ‘mom’ feels weird. ‘Sister’ fits. I chose it.”

Eventually, she held up the tiny gift as if it held all the answers, then finished her explanation with:

“'Sister' expresses my feelings best.”

Wise blinked.

No big fuss. No long speeches. Just a simple… “I chose it.”
Because it felt right for her to use this word for someone she held dear in her heart.
A word to define something too big for explanation.

Wise turned her words over and over in his mind, repeating them like a scratched record.
“…expresses my feelings best…”

But... Did marriage define the connection he and Lycaon had, better than being together?
Did spouse capture what boyfriend or lover could not?

He leaned back against the convenience store wall as he watched Soukaku skipping off towards the H.A.N.D. Headquarters, clutching her red bean bun gift like a badge of pride.
Her joy was radiant, uncomplicated, earnest.

And yet, it made something twist inside him.

Was that all marriage was? A way of choosing a word that felt more right? More exact?
A way of saying 'this is how I feel' in a language that society understands?

His mind drifted back to something he’d heard on television—a segment playing softly in the background while he and Lycaon were supposed to be doing dishes together, standing side by side.

Well… he had been trying to.
Until Lycaon kept interrupting with sneaky kisses, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

Eventually, Lycaon had plucked the plate right out of his hands and slipped behind him—chest pressed to his back, arms reaching around to take over.
Every movement of Lycaon’s arms as he washed a dish had felt like a loose, lingering half-hug—gentle and loving.

But it also had effectively trapped Wise between the sink and his warmth, turning a mundane chore into something far too intimate… and far too distracting.

The television had kept playing through it all, nearly forgotten, until a celebrity’s tired voice had cut through:

"I didn't feel loved anymore. I was neglected. The moment he became my spouse, he stopped trying to be my lover."

Those words had stuck. Clung to him like static.

Wise was still leaning against the convenience store wall, standing beneath the open sky as the afternoon sun tried to warm his skin—
But its warmth did nothing to ease the sudden chill settling in his chest.

Spouse.
It was a word wrapped in legal weight—
A term that spoke of permanence: contracts, tax forms, emergency contacts.
... But was it really better?

Better than lover, a word that carried the very thing he felt for Lycaon—woven into its syllables like thread through a seam?
Better than partner, which meant standing side by side, being equals?
Did a formal label make love deeper? More valid?

Or did it risk becoming a title with expectations?
A role to fulfill, like the celebrity’s husband who had forgotten how to hold her hand after putting a ring on her finger?

Wise exhaled sharply through his nose, his thoughts too tangled to make sense of it.

Yeah, he still wasn’t any closer to figuring out why someone like Lycaon—who never seemed to care what the world thought, who would’ve been perfectly content loving him in secret forever—would say something like, “I’d marry him right here, right now.”

But maybe… maybe that’s why it mattered.
Because for Lycaon to say it at all, for someone who didn’t need public validation, for someone who had already given him a bite mark full of instinctual love and loyalty…

There had to be something else behind it.

But maybe asking Yanagi wouldn’t help him find the answer.
Her answer would probably be as diligent and serious as she was—honest, well-structured, grounded in logic and reason.
Just like Soukaku’s had been simple and heartfelt.
Both were valid. Both made sense.

At least, in his head, they did.
But in his chest—in his heart—it still felt like something was missing.

Wise frowned, wandering aimlessly up and down the street outside the convenience store.
He wasn’t searching for logic or simplicity.
He was searching for something else—something that tugged at the heart.

An emotional answer to an emotional question.

If being a couple was already enough—
Why would someone want more?
What was it about marriage that made some people feel like just being in love wasn’t quite complete without it?

He needed to ask someone who felt things deeply, not someone who thought them through with logic.
He needed someone who knew how to translate those feelings into words, into something real.

Suddenly, his mind landed on a familiar name before he even realised it.

Astra.

A voice that could cut through crowds and silence a room with a single note.
A singer who could make people cry just by the way she sang of heartbreak, hope, and longing.
A person bound to her bodyguard by something Wise had long stopped trying to define—
because it was more than friendship, more than professionalism.

There was a depth there, woven into every glance, every word between them.
A closeness that defied simple titles.

If anyone could help untangle the emotional knots in his chest… it would be Astra.
And maybe—just maybe—talking to her would help him understand what he couldn’t find in search engines or logic.

He decided to sit on the bench beside the vending machine near the convenience store.
Pulling out his phone as he typed quickly—then hesitated for half a second before pressing send:

Wise:
- Has work been busy lately?

Message sent.

He then stared at the screen a moment longer, his reflection faint against the glass.

Marriage. Love. Commitment.
He didn’t want a script. He didn’t need statistics.
He needed someone who could speak the language of the heart.

And Astra spoke it fluently.

Moments later, his phone buzzed.

Astra:
- Busy, very busy. But... I feel like sneaking some free time in the middle of the busyness!

Wise:
- What a coincidence, me too!

Astra:
- Seems like we're on the same page! Sadly, Ev won't let me out of her sight until I have finished work 😭

Of course. Astra was a rising star—her days were packed with schedules and security protocols.
Every minute was accounted for, everything was timed with the precision of a beat in her music.
He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. Still...

Wise:
- That’s a pity. 

He let the phone rest in his palm, half-expecting the conversation to trail off. But before he could slip it back into his pants, it buzzed again.

Astra:
- Actually, there’s a movie I’ve been dying to see. It comes out in three days. Wanna join me?

Wise blinked, then grinned.

Wise:
- Absolutely. Just say the time and place.

Astra:
- Let’s agree on the time later. But it’s at Gravity Cinema — have you heard? They’re opening a newly renovated theatre! Starting tomorrow, they’re doing all sorts of promotional events to celebrate. You of all people can’t miss it, Mr. Video Store Manager.

Wise stared at the screen.
"New theatre? Promotional events? Why haven't I heard anything about it?!?"

He quickly pulled up the announcements on his phone, scanning the details with growing disbelief.
It was huge—the event kicked off tomorrow, and the first 100 customers would receive a VIP card that unlocked a variety of perks: better discounts, special gifts, and even one free movie every week. And if that wasn’t enough, the very first person to watch every film in their launch lineup would receive exclusive bonus rewards.

And yet…

He hadn’t even noticed it.

A long sigh escaped him as he slumped back onto the bench.
“Belle would definitely give me an earful for missing something like this,” he muttered.
“Probably say something like, ‘How can you call yourself a movie buff when you almost missed an event like this?’”

She already teased him for zoning out at work lately.
And now here he was—almost letting an industry-shaking cinema event slip right past him.

He tapped the screen off and let it fall onto his lap.

There was really only one reason his mind had been so scattered lately.
The words of a certain silver-haired and maddeningly tender Thiren.

Lycaon.

A name that had wrapped itself around his thoughts like film around a reel—tight, inescapable, and impossible to unwind.

“…Marriage,” Wise muttered under his breath, the word slipping out like a sigh.
Then another sigh followed, heavier this time, as he leaned forward.

He still hadn’t found an answer.

Why did people marry each other?
What did forever truly mean?

If the love he held—so certain, so steady—wasn’t enough by itself, then what was?
Society insisted that real commitment meant paper over presence, a signature over shared days and efforts.
That loving deeply still wasn’t quite enough unless you made it legal, official.

His gaze drifted to the dark screen resting in his hands.
Something about the event details he’d glanced at earlier nudged at the back of his mind.

He flipped the screen back on, the information glowing softly once more.
Only now did it really stand out—
Among the films being shown at Gravity Cinema’s reopening, several were love stories.
Romance in all its scripted, glittery forms.

And suddenly, something clicked.

“If fairytales taught me what love should look like, and books taught me how love is supposed to feel like… maybe movies can show me what ‘forever’ really means.”

Maybe, just maybe, that’s where he’d find it—
The answer to the question that had started to haunt him.

Somewhere in those moments between two people pretending it’s real… and somehow making him believe it truly is.

That they would love each other.
Until forever.

Chapter Text

DAY 1

The next morning came quietly, with the kind of light that barely cut through the haze of half-sleep.
But Wise was already out of bed, jacket shrugged on, hair still damp from a rushed shower, as he made his way to Lumina Square’s Gravity Cinema.

Wise was on a mission; he still couldn’t understand why people married each other, still couldn't understand what made them take that step.
So maybe—just maybe—watching all those love stories would help unravel that knot in his chest.

The VIP card, with its perks, was just a nice extra—
A necessary one for a movie buff like him, and another reason to be up this early.

He arrived just as the doors slid open with a hiss of cool air and the faint scent of popcorn. The bold red-and-gold interiors of Gravity Cinema welcomed him in, the carpet’s sharp grid pattern and sleek lighting gave the space a polished and almost theatrical feel.
As he stepped inside, still debating which love story to watch first, a familiar presence pulled his gaze to the side.

Elfy.

The intelligent construct turned towards him with a polite tilt of her head, recognising Wise immediately and greeting him with that usual calm, near-pleasant tone that somehow always felt just slightly amused.

“Manager from across the street,” she called him with a voice that sounded almost affectionate in the way only Elfy could manage.

Wise chuckled, greeting her in return, assuming she was here for the same reason—to snag one of the VIP cards.

But Elfy just blinked, clearly unaware of the event, only remembering the details after Wise mentioned the poster outside.
“Ah, the promo outside. No, I’m not here for that...” Elfy explained, smoothing out some creases on her dress, “Just wanted to catch a movie.”

Of course. Elfy never struck him as the type to chase trends.

“Anything new showing today?” Wise asked curiously.

“Not exactly,” Elfy replied. “Actually, I come here once a month to watch the same old film. I’ll have to find a different cinema if this place ever stops showing it.”

That caught Wise’s attention.
“Watching the same movie every month? That must be pretty nostalgic for you.”

Elfy’s expression shifted—eyes closing gently, head tilted as if listening to a memory rather than a sound.
It wasn’t quite nostalgia, not exactly wistfulness, but something thoughtful, searching.

“It’s not just about nostalgia,” she eventually said. “ Bardic Needle's selection has its unique flavor, but the "flavors" of music are a tricky thing to grasp.”

She paused, then added, “Have you ever heard of Coffee Mate?”

The name sparked immediate recognition in Wise.
“Yeah, I know it. In fact, it's pretty popular at the store. It's a love story between a human and a coffee machine.”

“That’s the one,” Elfy confirmed, her voice softening just slightly. “No matter how many songs you hear, some melodies just stay with you. No matter how many drinks you try, there’s always that one special one you come back to. This movie is the same for me.”

Wise paused, his gaze drifting to the posters that were lined up on a wall of the lobby.

Coffee Mate…
It was a bittersweet romance between a human and a coffee machine—
A bond that was probably as strange, soft, and unforgettable as the one he shared with Lycaon.

A bond that had formed between species, between instincts and uncertainties.
A love that some would say couldn’t possibly work since human and Thiren weren’t built the same, didn’t feel the same.

And yet...
Here he was, heart caught on someone with white fluffy ears and a soul-deep devotion.

Now that he thought about it, he wouldn’t mind watching that movie again.
Maybe this time, he’d see it differently.

"Maybe it can answer my question."

“Now that you mention it,” he said quietly, “I’d like to rewatch it too.”

"Perfect," Elfy smiled. "Then let's watch it together. I usually watch movies alone, but having company should be interesting. Especially for this film... I'm really looking forward to it."

"No problem! I was thinking the same thing." Wise replied, already feeling that strange tightness in his chest soften just a little.

He then followed Elfy to the counter, where the morning staff was just getting into rhythm.
A digital board rotated the list of current screenings, and in the corner, a bold banner blinked gently: VIP CARD GIVEAWAY – First 100 Guests Only.

Wise didn’t forget.

“Two tickets for Coffee Mate, please,” he said, and added quickly, “and I’d like to register for the VIP Cinema Card.”

The cashier gave him a small, before handing over a sleek, translucent card along with their tickets. 
As he held the small card in his hands, he let out a small breath of satisfaction—Mission accomplished.

With their tickets in hand and Elfy quietly observing the posters along the hallway, the two made their way to the newly renovated theatre. The scent of buttered popcorn lingered in the air, and the soft rumble of low voices filled the dim hallway.

When they entered inside, the theater was quiet—just a few other early risers already nestled into seats.
They then searched for their seats, which were near the center, neither too close nor too far from the screen.

As they found their seats and made themselves comfortable, the lights dimmed gradually and soft music drifted in as the opening scene began to play.

The movie began with snippets of the female lead's daily routine: the same order, the same corner seat, the same argument with the seemingly cold Mr. Rob, who remained motionless behind the counter while still being polite—even if it came off as stiff and mechanical.

But faced with Angelina’s relentless, fierce advances—her teasing affection, her persistent warmth—Mr. Rob seemed clumsy, unsure of how to handle her enthusiasm.
It was a striking contrast to the composed, polite, and almost robotic image he presented at first.

And Wise could immediately feel a small smile tugging at his lips as he was reminded of his lover.

Not the exact gestures, not some kind of coffee foam art like in the movie, but the feeling—
The feeling when Lycaon said "I love you" for the first time.

He still remembered the way Lycaon had looked at him—unapologetic, open, clear.
The way he’d confessed with that trembling voice, like he was holding his own heart out in his bare hands.
The way Lycaon's fluffy ears stopped twitching and were directed at him as if he wanted to hear if Wise's heart was saying the same thing as his own.

And Wise, standing there, too stunned to trust it, too afraid that what he’d believed to be unrequited love was somehow… reciprocated.

But like Mr. Rob on screen, something had changed in Wise the more he spent time with Lycaon. 

The coffee machine, once so mechanical in his responses, slowly began to reflect Angelina’s warmth—
In the way he brewed her coffee, in the delicate foam hearts he crafted, in the precise temperature he always remembered she liked.

Over time, something in Mr. Rob gradually softened as love slowly began to drip into each cup of coffee, subtle yet rich.
It was a transformation that closely mirrored Wise’s own.

Just as the machine began to embrace emotion, so too had Wise slowly allowed himself to feel for Lycaon.
With every quiet moment they shared, every reassuring word and gentle touch that silently promised 'You are safe. You are loved.' —
Wise, too, let warmth take root in places he once kept closed.

In reaction to the slow change of the interaction between Angelina and Mr. Rob, he leaned slightly forward, elbows on the armrest, caught in the quiet warmth of it all.

Beside him, Elfy’s voice came softly, without looking away from the screen.
“What do you think of their relationship?”

Wise didn’t answer right away.
His eyes stayed on the screen as he watched Mr. Rob carefully making another cup of coffee with a subtle swirl of foam shaped into a heart.
The coffee art was no longer just routine—it was a confession in progress.
He could see it now. The motion of emotion.

“Love is all you need,” Wise said at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

Beside him, Elfy let out a soft chuckle.

“You can be pretty childish sometimes.”

The words were light, even teasing...
But they struck a chord, and a familiar twinge of doubt stirred in Wise’s chest:

"Is it childish?"

Was it really that childish to believe love is enough?
Enough to overcome differences in species, biology, and future plans?
Enough to build something lasting?

But the thought didn’t get far.

Elfy spoke again, gently and without hesitation.
“Ah, please don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean that as an insult. Rather… I feel you’re so genuine in the words you speak.”

Wise smiled faintly at that, but something in him shifted—something quieter, older.

Because he hadn’t always been this genuine.
Not when it came to love.

He’d learned early that love, when it turned on you, wasn't as beautiful as the feeling itself.

Sometimes, it cracked quietly—
Through broken promises, unanswered messages, and the slow cooling of something once bright.

Because sometimes, it was easier to love like everyone else than to stay true to what set him apart.

Other times, it exploded—
Shattering everything at once, leaving nothing behind to fix, as delicate feelings were trampled under fear, doubt, or silence.

And Wise—he’d lived through all of it.
Had his fair share of awkward endings, unspoken shame, and heartbreaks that left no visible scars but bruised something deep inside of him.

So no, he hadn’t always spoken about love like this—
Like he believed in it.

Maybe that’s why, when Lycaon had first told him how he felt—had looked him in the eyes and said I love you—Wise hadn’t believed it. Couldn’t. Not at first.

Back then, it felt too good to be true.
Back then, he told himself Lycaon was misinterpreting his own feelings.
Back then, it had felt easier to disbelieve it than to hope.

Because somewhere inside, he still believed love that deep, that fierce, wasn’t meant for him.
And maybe… that’s why he didn’t answer right away.

Not that night. Not for weeks.

But Lycaon hadn't pressed. He hadn’t demanded answers or timelines.
Instead, he chose to love him with quiet ferocity—
Fierce yet patient, never raising his voice or pushing for a response.

It was as if he was saying:
'I hope I’m allowed to love you like this, without restraint, even if you haven’t answered me... I’ll wait on my own terms.'

That love showed itself in the smallest things: a scarf offered on a cold night—unnecessary for someone like Lycaon to carry, since his thick fur kept him perfectly warm—
or in the quiet appearances at Lumina Square, where he always seemed to be whenever Wise and Belle did their groceries.
He never intruded, never asked for more—
But he was always there, offering to help carry bags or reaching for something on a high shelf before Wise even had to ask.

Lycaon never spoke his feelings aloud during that time, but his actions whispered them—soft, persistent, undeniable.

And then one night, something shifted in Wise.
The wall he had built over the years finally cracked, and suddenly, he felt it—

That this love was safe, was real.
That it was okay to believe in it, even if it scared him.

And with that knowledge came something even more unexpected:
He could finally say it back.

He could finally give Lycaon an answer—quiet, but clear.
Could finally return clarity and honesty, after a time when all he had to offer was unclarity and dishonesty.
Could finally express, in words, the feelings he had only ever held in silence—

Finally met the love that had waited for him all along. 

Wise let out a slow breath, the weight of those memories both heavy and grounding.
Meanwhile, on the screen, Mr. Rob had stopped speaking, content to simply be in the moment beside Angelina.

The scene then faded into soft light, the credits rolling over gentle piano notes that neither Wise nor Elfy moved to speak over.
It was the kind of silence that didn’t beg to be broken, an earned stillness that was rich with something unspoken.

Later, when the theater lights came up and the two of them stepped back out into the midday sunlight, Wise found himself carrying that stillness with him.

The warmth of the film hadn’t left.
If anything, it had settled deeper inside him, curling into the corners of his chest with a quiet persistence that made the world around him blur.

The movie had tugged on too many old threads.
Threads that pulled him into fragments of moments with Lycaon—
Moments he hadn’t thought about in a while, yet still felt vividly real.

Soft memories, from just after they had finally gotten together.
He could still remember the way Lycaon would always walk a step behind when the streets were busy, just close enough for their hands to brush.
He could still remember the shared glances and the wordless warmth exchanged through mugs of coffee left waiting.
Could still remember the way love had spoken through gestures instead of declarations.

Even if no one else knew about it for the longest time, because they hadn’t told anyone at first—
Their relationship had still bloomed.

Bloomed in the hush of unlit corners and unspoken words.
Bloomed in secret dates disguised as everyday errands.
And maybe that was why it felt so precious.

Wise was still wrapped in those thoughts when Elfy’s voice finally pulled him back into the present.
“You’re deep in thought,” she said, watching him with that calm, curious gaze of hers. “May I ask what’s on your mind?”

He blinked as he slowly came back to himself.
“Ah… just the movie,” he said, offering a faint smile. “Still stuck in it, I guess.”

Elfy only nodded, as if that made perfect sense.

“The intimate bond between machine and human is a unique theme,” she said thoughtfully.
“And the cinematography captured it perfectly. Like a long, fragrant melody... It’s something that lingers in the mind.”

Wise stopped walking as he repeated her words in his mind.
"Lingers in the mind."

Something about those words settled differently in him. Resonated.
He found himself nodding, a little slower this time. Not just in agreement, but in recognition.

Their love lingered.
That was it.

The love he and Lycaon shared lingered like the scent of freshly brewed coffee—
rich and familiar, hanging in the air long after the cup was empty.
It was warm and persistent.
It was invisible to the eye, yet undeniable to the senses.

Even when Lycaon wasn’t near, the feeling he left behind still clung to Wise’s world.
It filled quiet mornings and late nights, stirred to life by passing thoughts or shared habits.
A feeling—no, a love—that didn’t need to be seen to be known.

“Anyway...,” Elfy eventually said, breaking the silence with a gentle finality,
“Thanks for hanging out with me today. It helped me decide on the music selection for Bardic Needle.”

Wise tilted his head, turning to her just in time to see her offer a faint smile, before she adjusted her dress and started walking off, graceful and unhurried as ever.

He watched her retreat into the crowd until she disappeared, her silhouette eventually absorbed into the soft colours of the square.

She’d come here with a goal—
And she’d found her answer.

And him? What about him?

Wise was still standing in the same place—
Was still orbiting around the same question.

But he didn’t regret it.
Not the time. Not the film. Not the unexpected company.

Watching Coffee Mate hadn’t given him an answer.
Not about the future—he still didn’t have that figured out.
But it had shown him something else.

Something about the present.
Something about what had already changed.

It had shown that Lycaon’s love had altered something fundamental in him.

Not all at once, not like flipping a switch—but gradually.
With patience and care, Lycaon had filled in the cracks and soothed the unseen bruises left behind by the past.
With actions and words, he had reminded Wise—again and again—that he was someone worthy of love.
And in that steady, quiet way of his, he’d helped Wise become the person he was now:

Someone who could love with more honesty and more openness than his past self had ever believed possible.
Someone who could believe naively that love was enough to stay together forever.

That kind of love didn’t fix everything.
But it had healed something in him.
And that healing—however quiet, however unfinished—gave him hope for the future.

Even if present Wise didn’t yet have the answer, he could believe that future Wise would find it.
While past Wise hadn’t believed love would come for him, present Wise now had faith in it—

Faith in the love he and Lycaon shared.
Faith that it would steady him when the ground beneath him began to crumble.
And faith that it would carry him forward.

Wise exhaled slowly and let the light wind brush past him, tugging the film’s lingering warmth just a little deeper into his chest.

“Maybe tomorrow will give me an answer,” Wise muttered under his breath as he turned away from the square, hands stuffed into his pockets as he was heading home.

Back to Belle, to Eous, to their little video store that smelled of old plastic cases and half-finished coffee.
Back to the life they’d built together from the scraps of everything they’d lost—
Back to everything they still refused to let go of.

DAY 2

The next day arrived with clear skies and a gentle breeze that tugged at the hem of his jacket and teased the back of his collar.
Still, instead of enjoying the pleasant weather, Wise once again found himself standing in front of Gravity Cinema—
its towering frame casting long shadows across the plaza, and the posters along its walls glowing with bold colors, inviting him to step inside and lose himself in the dark all over again.

It should’ve felt like just another morning.
But déjà vu curled around the edges of the moment as soon as he spotted a familiar silhouette lingering near the ticket booth.

He almost sighed, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Skipping work once again, I see,” Wise said dryly as he stepped closer.

The dark-haired archer immediately turned to face him, hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture, gasping with mock offense.
“What a cruel accusation. I’ll have you know I’m simply on an extended break... purely for cultural enrichment.”

Wise just rolled his eyes in response.
“Sure. And I’m just here doing inventory checks for the store.”

Harumasa leaned slightly forward, unfazed, his gaze drifting past Wise towards the list of screenings.
“I’m sure Last Flight is showing here, right?”

Wise blinked in confusion as he replied.
“This is a romance movie.”

The words came out before he could even filter them.
Of all genres, this was the last one he expected Harumasa to voluntarily sit through.

And as if reading his mind, Harumasa shrugged, lips curling in amusement.
“Hey now, I never said I dislike romantic movies. Though I haven’t watched a ton of them either…”

He looked up at the poster again, studying it with a thoughtful expression.

Then his gaze shifted back to Wise.
“But since we hardly hang out, why not give a romance flick a shot? How about watching it together?”

Wise hesitated for a moment.
He hadn’t decided on a film yet—
He’d come here, vaguely hoping to see something that might stir the questions still lingering in his chest.

So, in truth, nothing was standing in the way of just going along with Harumasa’s choice.

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s do it.”

After that, they bought their tickets—Wise making sure to flash his newly acquired VIP card, because perks were perks—before stepping into the theater just as the crowd began to filter in.

Inside, the lights were already low, the murmurs soft as they found their seats near the middle row.
Harumasa settled in with easy confidence, leaning back slightly, one arm resting casually on the armrest as he was waiting for the movie to begin.

Wise, in contrast, eased into his seat more cautiously.

He pulled his jacket closer, the cushion creaking softly beneath him as the darkness slowly wrapped around him.
The screen then lit up, and the gentle swell of orchestral music signaled the start of the film. 

From what he remembered about Last Flight, it was a tearjerker.

Plenty of customers had rented it from their store before. Without fail, those who returned it a day or two later always wore the same look—
Eyes slightly puffy, voices a little hoarse, clutching the case like it could give them some kind of comfort.

To be honest, Wise had never actually watched it all the way through.
Maybe a scene or two while checking the disc for scratches, or catching snippets while it played in the background during closing hours...
But never like this. Never with his full attention, front and center.

As his eyes were directed to the screen, the film opened with the familiar, syrup-sweet tone of a classic romance.
Sweeping shots of coastal cities and sunlight-drenched balconies, and air filled with the couple's laughter.

And soon after, a charming proposal scene followed—
A scene in a softly lit restaurant, candles flickering on the tables, while a string quartet played gentle melodies in the background.
It was the kind of moment that made audiences smile through their teeth.

But Wise... he could only sigh.

It was always shown like this.
Like forever was something you could just ask for with a ring and some clever planning.
Like vowing your whole self to someone was easy. Clean. Painless.

He tilted his head back slightly, eyes flicking towards the ceiling for a heartbeat.
"If Lycaon proposed to me right here, right now… what would I even say?"

If Wis was honest with himself—
He didn’t know, wasn't even sure how he would react.

And that uncertainty throbbed quietly beneath his ribs, unwanted and unshakable.
So he pushed it away, looked back up at the screen and hoped the story would carry him forward.

But of course, the sweetness in the previous scenes didn’t last.
It never did in films like this.

Not long after the proposal, the male protagonist—burning with determination and joy—decided to go big.
To impress his fiancée and prove something to her, and maybe even to himself, he planned an aerial stunt.
It was dangerously ambitious—
One misstep in the choreography of wind and gravity, and it would all be over.

Moments later, the screen shifted into chaos.

His fiancée’s scream pierced the air as the aircraft spun wildly out of control.
Her fingers reached desperately towards the sky, as if sheer will alone could pull him back down.

The image blurred slightly, mirroring not only the hazy view through her tear-filled eyes but also the faces around them in the theater, where some audience members had started to cry.

Wise wasn’t crying—not exactly—but a sharp weight settled in his chest, making it harder to breathe for a moment.

Because he understood her panic.
Understood the sick, spiraling fear of watching someone you love risk everything for something they believe in—
Just as he had when their teacher, the one he and Belle had looked up to, was taken from them.

Wise then slightly leaned back in his seat, yet there was no comfort to be found in the worn cushions.

Even though he understood Irene’s fear in those scenes, he couldn’t help but feel reflected in a completely different person...
Her fiancé, Joseph.

He and Belle had long since given up the luxury of living safely, of living quietly.

The day their teacher, Carole Arna, disappeared—dragged into a Hollow by a massive, chimeric hand while protecting them and the HDD System—something irreparable had splintered inside them both. They hadn’t just lost a mentor that day. They had lost a future.
A family. A home. A truth.

And New Eridu had not been kind after that day.

Carole was blamed, became a scapegoat, painted in convenient colors.
The fall of the lab, the chaos surrounding the Hollow breach—it was all pinned on her.
The official reports were full of distortions and silence as her name slowly became one that people either whispered or avoided altogether.

But Wise and Belle had seen the truth.

They had seen her fight to protect them, had watched her resist until her very last moment before she was torn away.
They had felt the tremors, had heard her screams before she disappeared.
They knew she wasn’t the villain the city claimed—

And they never stopped chasing that truth.
No matter the cost.

That’s what their life had become—
scouring through records, diving into unstable Hollows, going through corrupted Data, and avoiding Proxy regulations just to find a thread.
A thread. A lead. Anything.

This was their mission, their lifeblood, their grief sharpened into purpose.
And Wise knew their goal was dangerously ambitious, and that it could very well end like Joseph’s story:

In death.

His jaw tensed as a sudden clarity hit him.
His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, even as it blurred, even as the protagonist cried out in pain and the screen faded to white.

He suddenly realised that all along, this wasn’t just about love.
It wasn’t just about marriage.
It wasn't just about forever.
It was about who he was now.

And with that came the real question—the one that sat heavier than all the rest:
Was the person he was now… someone who could promise a forever to anyone?

Not just Wise, the manager of the video store.
Not the big brother who laughed with Belle at the end of the day.
Not the caretaker who doted on Eous and the other Bangboos like they were his own.

But this Wise—
The one who spent every day clawing through corrupted Hollow logs and memory leaks.
The one who gambled his life, not for glory, but for a truth no one else seemed to believe existed.

Could that version of himself offer a forever?
Could he really look someone like Lycaon in the eye and say, "I’ll stay by your side"—
When the truth was, he might not even make it back the next day?

And just like that, he realised:
He’d been asking the wrong question all along.

It wasn’t "Why do people get married?"
It was, "How can anyone promise forever, when forever can so easily crumble right in front of you?"

His thoughts spiralled fast and deep, like a Hollow collapsing inward—
Until a quiet voice broke through the noise.

“Hey,” Harumasa said, glancing sideways. “You good?”

Wise blinked, startled.
He hadn’t even realised how tightly his arms were folded and how shallow his breathing had gotten.

He exhaled slowly, nodding with a tired kind of smile.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Just... thinking.”

Harumasa didn’t push.
He just gave a brief nod and turned his eyes back to the screen, where the story had taken a devastating turn, as Irenda had managed to turn back time:

Irenda: I don't need any special flights, Joseph... all I want is for you to be safe. Please don't go, okay?

Joseph: Don't you trust your fiancé? Just wait—I'll bring back some stars for you to see!

Irenda: No, I do! But I've seen accidents... I've seen you spiraling right in front of me... Joseph, please, don't go!

Wise’s throat went dry.
Not from recognition, but because of the look on Irene’s face—
Something in her expression tugged at his consciousness, sharp and impossible to ignore.

And then the climax of the story hit—swift, brutal, relentless.

Irenda slipped on her engagement ring to travel back to that morning, tried to save him—and failed.
Refusing to give up, she slipped the ring onto her finger once again, bracing herself for another attempt.
Another failure.

And again.

Each attempt was a desperate reach through time, trying to save the love of her life.
And every new cycle ended the same: Irenda, helplessly watching Joseph fall through the sky.

With each rewind, her return point crept closer to the accident, leaving her with less and less time to change the outcome.
Until finally, there was just one chance left.

One last attempt—
One last try before her next rewind would drop her after the fall, too late to save him at all.

The audience held its breath. Wise included.

And somewhere deep in his chest, he couldn’t help but wonder—
"If Lycaon ever looked at me with the same expression Irenda wears—eyes raw with fear, voice trembling on the edge of breaking—and begged me to stay... would I do that?"

Could he forget about his goal?
Could he really turn his back on everything he and Belle had been through?
Turn away from the truth they were chasing, the justice they were desperate to prove?

Would he be able to walk away from the Hollows, from the path that had defined nearly half his life?

The quiet voice inside him already knew the answer—
No, he’d still go.

Even if it tore him apart.
Even if it left someone he loved watching helplessly from behind.

Wise exhaled slowly, that heavy truth settling into his chest like dust on old film reels.

He could’ve had a safer life.
Could’ve used his skills to build comfort.
Could’ve chosen to forget. To move on.

Could’ve become the kind of person who was able to offer a forever easily—
A forever wrapped in a ring and a well-timed proposal.

But that wasn’t who he was.

He then glanced sideways, hoping to find something—anything—to distract him, to keep his thoughts at bay.
Harumasa was still watching the screen, arms crossed, chin tilted in thought, the flickering light playing calmly across his face.

And something about that steadiness made Wise pause.
It was a quiet reminder: he was here to watch a story, not get lost in his own.

A soft sigh escaped him as he turned back to the screen, letting the film pull him in again—
Even if only for a little while.

In the final stretch of the movie, Irene—still clinging to the last shred of hope—finally succeeded.
She reached him before the spiral.
Brought him back, safe and whole.

The screen suddenly went dark.
Moments later, the credits began to roll, and the theater held its silence—heavy with everything the film had stirred inside its audience.

When Harumasa and Wise left the theatre and stepped back out into the cool air, neither of them said much at first.
It wasn’t awkward—just… full.
The kind of silence that held more than words ever could.

Eventually, Wise broke their silence.
“So… what did you think?”

Harumasa, who had been walking with his hands shoved into his pockets, let out a short laugh.
“You asking like you didn’t sit there looking like someone punched you in the gut.”

Wise huffed a weak laugh of his own.
“I guess I can’t deny that…”

The archer gave him a faint smile before glancing up at the overcast sky and commenting.
“To be honest… I didn’t really like the way the male lead behaved.”

Wise immediately turned to him, curious about his reasoning.

Harumasa shrugged.
“I mean, to perform such a high-risk maneuver for the sake of his fiancée? What kind of logic is that?”

He then paused, shaking his head slightly in disagreement.
“One shouldn’t treat their life so recklessly.”

Wise’s heart gave a small, reluctant twitch.
The words weren’t aimed at him, but they might as well have been.

After that, Harumasa added in a quieter and softer tone,
“More importantly… he never considered how she might feel. Nobody wants to see their loved ones die right before their eyes.”

Wise looked down at his hands.
"I know."

He knew exactly how much it would hurt Lycaon.
He’d seen flashes of it already—
Especially after commissions where he’d entered a Hollow without Eous’ body.

How Lycaon would always stop by the store afterward, no matter how short the mission was itself.
How he’d hug Wise too tightly, like he couldn’t help himself.
How he’d sometimes linger too long by the door before finally leaving the video store—

Like he wasn’t sure he’d get another goodbye.

And still…

Wise hadn’t stopped.
Wouldn’t stop.

In hindsight, Wise thought bitterly, maybe he was even worse than Joseph in the movie.
"At least Joseph had the decency to believe what he was doing was for love."

Harumasa’s voice cut in again, more subdued now.
“...Of course, unless there's no other choice, no one wants to die in front of someone they love, either.”

As he said those words, something shifted in Wise.
But he ultimately chose to ignore the feeling—and the thoughts that came with it.

They then exchanged a few final words before Harumasa eventually walked away, his footsteps fading into the quiet rhythm of the street.

Wise, meanwhile, remained still, watching as the archer's silhouette disappeared around the corner.
And then… the words came back:

“Unless there’s no other choice.”

He rewound them again and again, as if his mind were stuck in the same loop as Irenda in the movie.
Those words followed him like a whisper into the stillness.

Was there… really no other choice?

That had always been his truth. His answer.

That he had to do this.
That he and Belle had no other path.
That searching for the truth wasn’t just a mission—it was a purpose.

But now…
Now that question sat there, raw and unfiltered.

Because if he said no—
If he said there was another choice...

Didn’t that mean letting go?
Didn’t that mean turning his back on every scar he carried?

To abandon the Hollows was to abandon their teacher.
To leave the past behind was to pretend it never happened.
To give up the fight meant forsaking everything he and Belle had built from the ruins of that day.

And it meant looking in the mirror and seeing not the person he had become…
But the one he had betrayed.

Could he really do that?
Could he look himself in the eye, knowing he’d let Belle walk forward alone—
Knowing he hadn’t just failed his sister, but the boy who once swore he’d never stop chasing the truth?

Could he truly abandon the person who shaped him?

And if he actually gave all that up…
What would remain?
Who would remain?

Wise drew a slow breath, his hands curling loosely at his sides.

The movie had pulled him forward—
But it had also left him torn.

It forced him to face the real questions:
What do you do when love and purpose pull you in opposite directions?
What do you do when holding on to one means letting go of the other?

And the truth was… he didn’t know.

His chest ached under the weight of that unanswered question, leaving only silence—
the kind that lingered, uncomfortable and heavy, and clung to him all the way back home.

DAY 3

The next morning came quietly.

Despite the heaviness still trailing his thoughts from the day before, Wise had made plans with Astra—
And he wasn’t about to cancel them, even if a part of him felt like hiding away to ignore the complicated feelings that were still bubbling beneath the surface.

He’d been texting with Astra until late last night, both of them dancing around scheduling conflicts until they finally settled on late afternoon—
When the crowds would start to thin out, making it easier for Astra to move around without being recognised or overwhelmed by fans.

Now here he was, standing inside Gravity Cinema’s spacious lobby, bathed in the golden afternoon light that streamed through the high windows.
The air was tinged with that familiar mix of cool air-conditioning and the warm scent of freshly popped popcorn.

He was just about to check the time on his phone screen when it buzzed softly in his hand.

ASTRA
– sorry wise >< something came up. i might only make it by evening. hope that's okay?

Wise stared at the message for a long moment, then sighed—not with frustration, but with quiet understanding.

She was Astra, after all—
A star in constant motion, her popularity not just hard-earned, but growing faster than she could ever slow it down.

He paused, thinking about his reply for a few seconds before he started typing, as he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t feel guilty about the delay.

WISE
– That’s fine. Just text me when you’re on your way.

He slipped the phone back into his jacket and exhaled slowly through his nose.
It couldn’t be helped—celebrities didn’t exactly get to sneak away without pulling a dozen strings.

And as he stood there, letting the quiet murmur of the cinema fill the space around him, his eyes began to wander.
The posters lining the walls weren’t much different from yesterday, didn't change at all—
Sleek graphics and bold titles were advertising animated charm, exciting adventures, and starry-eyed romance.

"Romance"—
Just the thought of sitting through another love story made his heart feel heavier than it already was.

He didn’t have the emotional energy for it—
Not today.

What he really wanted, more than any film, was to feel grounded again.
To hear a certain voice, not just more stories booming through oversized speakers.
To be held in that quiet kind of reassurance only one person ever managed to give him—
Not the dark hush of a theater, but the steady comfort of leaning against his soft-eyed, ever-steady boyfriend,
the one who always seemed to know how to lift the weight from his chest without a word.

His breath left him in something close to a sigh as his gaze drifted and landed on something else—
A smaller, less flashy poster, tucked slightly off to the side, like it wasn’t meant to draw too much attention:

'This is How I Am'

Beneath the title was a simple line written in plain, clear letters:

'This documentary brings together various kinds of audio-visual and textual information from the old civilization to show the world and human life during that period.'

Wise blinked. He knew this one—
A documentary-style film that was slow, artsy, and almost meditative in its flow.
It felt like a love letter to a life long lost.

It had always been one of his quiet favorites—
The kind of film you didn’t just watch, but absorbed, letting every element settle into place.
Every sound, every frame, every pause mattered; nothing was accidental.
That was part of what drew him to films like this because each rewatch revealed something new:

A hidden layer, a different meaning, a shifted perspective.
It never got old.
It only got deeper.

But what made him step closer to that poster was what was written beneath all of that:

'Lost original film reels uncovered in an abandoned warehouse, now screening to promote the cinema.'

He hadn’t heard that.

The old reels? The missing versions?

His mind jumped back to the uproar when the documentary had first been released. It didn’t take long for it to be banned.
In the official statement, the reasoning was clear:

'The documentary shows a beautiful illusion that does not exist, diminishing citizens' safety awareness, and is therefore deemed inappropriate for public viewing for safety measures.'

But that wasn’t the end of it.
The ban only added to its legend, as a wave of fans had protested, petitioned, and pushed back—
Until eventually, the film was quietly re-released.

Still, it was never quite the same.
Parts had been softened, reshaped, and pieces were clearly missing.

Wise also remembered reading that the director once admitted an entire side narrative had been cut before the premiere.
Scrapped. Labeled irrelevant. Unfit for public viewing.

And now…
Now those lost reels were here.

He took a step back, his heart beating faster with anticipation.

This wasn’t just a film.
It was a hidden truth, brought back into the light—
Only to be shown once more in the darkness of the theater.

Without another thought, he turned around, already set on watching it.
And nearly walked straight into a familiar face.

“Hey bro,” his sister greeted him cheerfully, standing there with a grin far too wide for this early in the day.
“I knew you’d get here early.”

Her green eyes were shining like she’d been waiting for this moment all morning, arms crossed as she shifted her weight to one side, and brimming with the same life and easy confidence she’d always had since they were little kids.

Wise chuckled, something warm loosening in his chest.
“Of course. 'Lost original film reels uncovered in an abandoned warehouse, now screening to promote the cinema'— this kind of news is obviously targeted at cinephiles like us.”

Belle laughed while nodding in agreement.
“Exactly! Let's check it out today~”

He shook his head with a smile, and when their eyes met, they shared a knowing look—
One full of unspoken words and quiet understanding.

When they were in each other’s company, they weren’t just Phaethon or two video store managers navigating the world’s harsh reality.
At their core, they were still just siblings who once watched films on scratched discs, rewound favorite scenes, and dreamed in frames per second.

Wise smiled softly, the weight on his shoulders shifting just a little.

“Alright then,” he said with a faint nod toward the poster. “Let’s watch 'This Is How I Am' together.”

But Belle blinked, clearly puzzled.
“Huh? I thought we were gonna watch 'Invasion: Next Gen?'”

Wise raised a brow and turned toward the listing board.
“Invasion: Next Gen? Let me see…”

He scanned the screenings and, sure enough, there it was—right next to 'This Is How I Am'.

“Ah, they did find both of these films in the same warehouse,” he muttered, before tilting his head and looking back at her, brows slightly raised.
“But that one’s just another big-budget action flick. Why do you wanna watch the rough cut of a movie like that?”

She didn’t even get the chance to open her mouth—Wise was already back at it again, running his mouth off, the cinephile in him taking over.
“'This Is How I Am' supposedly has an entire plotline that was eventually deleted. So, watching the restored version with the sidestory and its original context will give you a completely different perspective on the director’s narrative. It’s not just a documentary—it’s a philosophy on film as memory.”

Belle finally raised a hand with dramatic flair, cutting him off before he could sink any deeper into his cinematic analysis.
“Just another action flick? Tsk, tsk. I guess you didn’t know that the cinema version of Invasion: Next Gen had to change its original ending because of budget cuts and some stunt accident involving the lead actor.”

Wise blinked, caught off guard, before letting his shoulders slump with a half-smile.
“Alright, fair enough. Since we’ve got time anyway… I guess I’ll go watch 'Invasion: Next Gen' with you.”

But the response he got wasn’t the usual teasing comment or triumphant grin he’d been expecting.
He’d braced for a playful comeback, maybe even a dramatic cheer that he was finally letting her pick a movie.

Instead, Belle tilted her head and gave him an exaggerated pout.
“Hm? After your whole speech about how great 'This Is How I Am' is, I'm actually kind of interested in watching that now...”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Honestly, he hadn’t expected her to insist on his pick—
Especially not when she was usually the first to complain about his taste in new videotapes for the store, calling them “slow,” “weird,” or “boring.”

“I mean,” she continued, now speaking faster as if to beat his inevitable counter,
“I was just teasing. But now I’m kinda curious about it too. Let’s watch it.”

“Belle, it’s nearly five hours long,” he said gently, trying to reassure her it was okay to go with her pick.
“You really don’t have to change your plans for me. We’ll have other—”

She didn’t even let him finish before turning away.
And in that brief glimpse he caught of her face, something in her expression had changed.
Her pout had faded and was replaced by something quieter—

Something like sadness or maybe… loneliness.

“Nope,” she said, a little more forcefully now. “We’re watching This Is How I Am.”

Before he could argue further, she was already heading towards the ticket booth, tossing a quick, “Don’t fall behind!” over her shoulder.

He watched her go, lips parted, unsure if he should call out. But then he decided to follow her—
Reluctantly at first, with slow, uncertain steps, because something in her voice and that fleeting look still lingered with him.

Moments later, she returned and slapped one of the tickets into his palm.
“You’re falling behind,” she said, locking eyes with him.
“Come on, bro. Let’s get our seats—and don’t even think about feeling bad.”

She then turned again, full of bounce and conviction, leaving him no choice but to fall in step behind her.

As he walked behind her, Wise couldn't help but smile softly since it reminded him so much of when they were kids.

How Belle would always run towards life, never hesitating.
How she'd always drag him along, whether it was exploring forbidden rooftops or trying weird snack combinations.
And how he was always left a few steps behind to play the voice of caution, always watching her back.

Even now, years later, in a world far harsher than the one they once imagined through secondhand films and empty living room stages…
He wouldn’t change a thing about their dynamic.
He would take every sigh, every worry, every hardship if it meant he could still see her like this—
Brave. Bright. Smiling.

As they stepped into the dim theater and slipped into their seats, the soft murmur of the gathering crowd surrounded them. Wise glanced over at Belle—arms folded gently, her face calm and peaceful, completely at ease and ready to immerse herself in the film.

And in that quiet moment, watching her so effortlessly at ease, he felt it again—
The steady reassurance that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

The lights then dimmed further, and the first tones hummed softly from the speakers, signaling the start of the movie.

On the screen, sleek black-and-white visuals came to life, while floating asteroids drifted across a starless void.
At the center of the screen, bold letters slowly formed the word: GRAVITY.

Wise watched the opening credits with quiet anticipation—until a sudden realisation hit him, and his stomach dropped. 
“Ah—crap,” he muttered under his breath.

He’d forgotten the popcorn.

Caught up in the memories, in everything that brought them here, he’d missed the small thing he always tried to get right for Belle.

He sighed, a touch of disbelief in it—
Mildly annoyed with himself for forgetting something so simple, yet so essential to a good movie night, he whispered.
“Thanks for coming to the movies with me, Belle. I know I’m the ‘artsy, slow, retro-documentary-loving’ guy, and this probably isn’t your idea of fun.”

As if right on cue, Belle turned her head just enough to throw him a pointed glare, her expression dry.
“Then I’m the ‘boring girl who loves thrilling popcorn flicks’!”

Wise blinked in response, then let out a quiet chuckle.

Belle's eyes sparkled faintly with amusement while he shook his head, still smiling as he tried to reassure his sister that she was anything but boring.
“You are so not! For one, every type of movie has its own appeal and value! And, whether it's movies or anything else, my sister is the coolest and most un-boring girl in all of New Eridu.”

That earned him a small and satisfied grin from her.
She then turned her gaze back to the screen without another word, but the warmth in her expression lingered.

Seeing her that satisfied, Wise eased back into his seat, the weight in his chest less heavy than before.

The movie moved forward with a patient, deliberate rhythm, as extended shots of near-silent footage were shown on the screen:
Sequences of landscapes and buildings slowly reclaimed by nature, of long-abandoned streets that once echoed with laughter, of fragments of a world no longer recognisable—
Almost forgotten by those who had once called it home.

And after each lingering shot, the narrator’s voice returned, repeating the same line over and over again like a mantra:
“Even if tomorrow isn’t any better, it wouldn’t be worse than today.”

Wise found himself murmuring the line under his breath, almost like a reflex.
Then, without thinking, he added softly, “But life doesn’t always work that way, does it?”

As the words left him, his gaze slowly shifted towards Belle—
A quiet fear rising in his chest, unsure if he’d just said something that might have pushed too far, or worse, annoyed her.

He watched her face closely, taking in every small detail with quiet focus.
She hadn’t looked away from the screen, but he noticed something in her posture had slightly changed—
It was as if the line had stirred something quiet in her too.

Her voice, when she replied to him, was quieter and gentler than usual:
“Some things still stay good.”

Wise looked down for a moment, fingers loosely laced together in his lap.
Even if they argued sometimes...
Even if they’d both gone through so much...

“Even if things go downhill tomorrow...” he whispered.

He then took a deep breath, letting himself sink further into the seat, and letting the atmosphere of the film settle around him before continuing his sentence:
“... At least Phaethon will always have each other to count on.”

And in the soft light flickering across the theater, that simple truth felt like a steady hand on his back.
A hand that would nudge him forward, even when his legs threatened to give out on the path towards their shared goals—
But also a hand that would find his own and gently guide him when he felt lost along the way.

As the protagonist continued to reminisce, a new stretch of narration played over the quiet hum of static and the slow, gliding shots on screen:
Footage of empty suburbs reclaimed by wind and moss, fragments of playgrounds half-swallowed by dirt, a flicker of neon signs buried beneath rubble—
It was haunting and beautiful at the same time.

The narrator’s voice during those scenes was soft and reflective—
Almost ghostly, like someone speaking from a dream long passed:

“Adults would always be anxious about the future... But I thought, even if tomorrow isn't any better, it wouldn't be worse, either. And now, I've grown up. While passing the outskirts of the streets and highrises, I can almost still see the coastline — stretching east to west, vanishing into the dark. The streets we once walked, the memories, the fireworks, the sunsets... our childhood. They're all buried in there now.”

The words lingered in his mind like fog on glass—
Words that were all too familiar and resonated with him.

Wise exhaled quietly.
The voice of the protagonist could’ve just as easily been his own.

Their home—
All the places that were part of their childhood.
All the happy memories shared with friends during their time at the academy.

All drowned in the Hollow.

A loss shared by many in New Eridu.
A story played out in almost every corner of the city—
And, of course, it was their story too.

The beginning of the legendary Proxy Phaethon.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Wise leaned in slightly, voice low and distant.
“Remember when we promised to open a video store when we were kids?  We wanted to collect a ton of old videos and movies just like this one in hopes of piecing together what the old civilization was really like.”

He then gave a quiet chuckle, a small smile tugging at his lips as he continued, his voice tinged with a little bit of melancholy.
“Before we realised it, even our own memories became part of the past.”

Soon, they reached the noodle shop—
An open-front spot where warm light spilled out onto the sidewalk, the scent of broth and spices drifting into the night air.
The gentle glow from the hanging lanterns and the soft clatter of bowls made the place feel inviting and lived-in.

They immediately placed their orders with General Chop, before sitting down on the stools at the counter, and facing away from the street behind them.

Astra leaned onto the counter with a content sigh.
“You know, Evelyn made me fried rice this morning.”

Wise smiled, nodding for her to go on.

“She was awful at first,” Astra laughed softly. “The first time she tried to cook for me, it was almost inedible. But just knowing she got up at the crack of dawn to make me something warm—it filled my heart with so much warmth. After that, she buried herself in cookbooks, determined to get better because she wanted to take care of me properly.”

Wise listened closely, watching how the memory softened her usually energetic demeanor into something tender.

He paused, fingers drumming lightly on the counter as he gathered his thoughts.
For a moment, he hesitated—
Then, he finally found the courage to tell her the real reason he’d asked to meet up.

“You know... there’s something that’s been on my mind for a while now. I was actually hoping you could help me figure it out.”

Astra’s eyes immediately lit up, and she nodded without hesitation.
“Ask away! I’m happy to help.”

Wise smiled faintly in response, but didn’t speak right away.
He looked down at his hands, as if searching for the right words—
The ones that had been weighing on him for days.

Then, with a quiet breath, he asked:
“When actions can tell us more than words ever could—showing how we feel and care for another person—then why do people still want to marry? Is vowing forever, when the future is so uncertain, really more important than how we show up for each other?”

Astra looked at him questioningly, blinking in surprise, before her eyes lit up with sudden excitement.
“Are you getting married? Oh! I heard you were dating someone! You need to introduce him to me before this... AND invite me!” she almost screamed, practically bouncing in her seat.

Wise opened his mouth to interrupt, but Astra cut him off with a dramatic gasp.
“Wait! You wouldn’t be asking why if you wanted to marry... Don’t tell me you’re asking because he proposed and you said no!”

Wise let out a small sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“No, no, it’s not like that. Whatever scenario you’re imagining, or about to imagine, it’s wrong. It’s just... a question I never really thought about. But now that I’m in a serious relationship, I feel like somehow it’s inevitable it’ll end with marriage... or at least, that’s what society kind of expects.”

Almost immediately, Astra’s excitement softened into a more thoughtful expression as she nodded slowly, her energy settling into something quieter.
She then leaned slightly back, closing her eyes as if gathering her thoughts, her face softening into a contemplative expression.

“Actions are indeed the truest language of the heart...,” she began softly. “ And through them, we feel the rhythm of love more deeply than words alone could ever capture. But sometimes… love needs a symbol. A lasting note that echoes even after the moment has passed. Marriage can be that symbol. Not because people are certain of the future, but because they’re not. And still... they choose to face whatever comes, together.”

She opened her eyes slowly, meeting Wise’s gaze with quiet certainty.

“Love is the song that carries us through the storms. But the promise—that vow—is the rhythm that keeps us in sync when the winds try to pull us apart. So no, the vow doesn’t matter more than showing up. But for some of us… It’s just another way of showing up. Loudly. Boldly. Like singing the same note over and over until it becomes a part of who we are.”

Wise sat quietly, letting her words settle around him like a gentle melody.

After a long pause, his voice dropped to a small, uncertain whisper.
“So… love isn’t enough?”

Astra didn’t answer right away.
Her usual spark dimmed, replaced by something softer and more introspective.

She slightly tilted her head, brows knitting as she searched for the right words.
“You make it sound like I think love isn’t powerful,” she said at last. “But that’s not it.”

She then leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter, her gaze steady and sincere.

“Love is the beginning—the spark, the reason. But no... It’s not always enough. Not because love lacks strength—it’s the most powerful thing we have. But even the strongest melody needs harmony. Love without understanding becomes noise. Love without trust turns into doubt. Love without effort fades… like a song no one listens to anymore.”

As she said those words, her eyes shimmered with a tenderness Wise rarely saw in her—
Soft and open, the kind of look she usually reserved for moments with Evelyn.
It held something unspoken—experience, and perhaps longing and hope.

“To love is beautiful. But to stay, to grow, to choose someone every day? That’s more than just love. That’s work. That’s courage. That’s a duet you keep writing together, even when you're sometimes off-key.”

Wise sat still, her words wrapping around his thoughts like threads—
familiar, yet so tangled he couldn’t quite unravel them.

They stirred something deep in him.
Something unspoken.
Something that resonated.

But his mind couldn’t quite catch up.

He understood it. He felt it.
And still, it was like trying to read a poem in a language he almost knew—but not well enough to translate.

The more it made sense, the more lost he somehow felt.

But before the fog of his thoughts could cloud his senses even more, Astra reached across the counter and gently nudged his hand.
“In the end,” she said with a quiet smile, “I’m only talking about how I feel about it.”

Wise blinked, eyes meeting hers again.

“Everyone has their own reasons for wanting to get married someday,” Astra continued. “And some people never do. There are couples out there who’ve never signed a paper, but their bond is stronger than some marriages will ever be.”

Wise furrowed his brows, his gaze questioning.
“What are you trying to say…?”

Astra gave him a playful wink.
“You need to find your reason. Your own language for love. Maybe… spending more time with your sweetheart will help you figure it out.”

As they sat together in comfortable silence, side by side at the counter, the warmth of Astra’s words still lingered in the air.

And suddenly, Wise found his thoughts drifting—
drifting inevitably and instinctively to Lycaon once more.

He missed him.
Missed him more than he liked to admit, even to himself.

They hadn’t seen each other properly in days since their schedules misaligned in the most frustrating ways:
Too busy with commissions outside of New Eridu.
Too busy handling difficult, draining clients.
Or too occupied with unexpected events like the HDD nearly crashing, or Victoria Housekeeping being pulled into a last-minute high-profile event.

In the end, all they had to keep the closeness alive were text messages, scattered late-night calls, and voice notes passed back and forth between busy moments.

As Wise thought about those bits of phone-bound communication, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"But those voice messages…"

He let out a quiet laugh at the thought.

He had been the one to teach Lycaon how to use the voice message function.
Clumsy as ever with technology—like an old man lost in a sea of buttons—the Thiren had grumbled and fumbled his way through the interface, managing to press every wrong icon before finally figuring it out.

Only for that hard-earned practice to result in Lycaon somehow sending five separate recordings in a row, each cut off halfway because he kept letting go of the button too soon.

“Is this work—”
“…Did it record?”
“I am so sorry, my love—”
“…for my lack of portable cellphone knowle—”
“I shall… make myself better acquainted with it. For your sake.”

Wise had listened to the whole mess five times in a row, grinning like an idiot every single time.

While lost in thought, he didn’t even notice Astra watching him until she tilted her head and asked, her tone teasing but warm,
“Thinking about your lovely boyfriend?”

Wise blinked, caught completely off guard as a warm blush spread swiftly across his face.
He opened his mouth to say something, but no explanation came—
There was no point in denying it anyway.

Astra just smiled at him, eyes soft and full of quiet joy.
“When I write songs about people in love, about their happiness, their quiet little joys… I always imagine them looking exactly like you did just now when you thought of him. Happy. Content. A little lost in it.”

Wise blinked. Once. Twice—
Unsure how to respond to her comment.
All he knew was that somehow, it warmed and calmed something deep inside his heart, which had been filled with cold uncertainty since yesterday.

And before he could respond to her, the clatter of ceramic broke the moment as General Chop finished their order, setting steaming bowls down in front of them with a satisfied grunt.

“Finally!” Astra beamed, already reaching for her chopsticks. “I was starving! Let’s dig in!”

Wise chuckled at her enthusiasm, her voice bringing him back to the moment.
He then reached out for his chopsticks, leaning over his bowl, as the scent of broth and spice rose to greet him like an old friend.

“Let’s,” he murmured, taking the first slurp, and feeling somehow reassured after their talk.

Even if Wise wasn’t quite where he wanted to be yet, it was because of Astra that he finally knew one thing for sure—
The last piece of the puzzle, the final key to his answer, was with Lycaon.

With Lycaon’s warm smile.
With Lycaon’s soft touch.
With Lycaon’s strong arms.

A thought that stirred something deep inside of Wise—
A longing to meet his lover again soon, to be held once more in that gentle and fluffy embrace.

Chapter Text

After meeting up with Astra in the late evening and grabbing something to eat well into the night, Wise finally made his way home.
Sixth Street glowed faintly under the hum of neon and hoverlights—the part where he lived now hushed, wrapped in a calm only midnight could bring.

It was then, halfway through his quiet walk back, that his phone buzzed again—this time with a message from the mayor:

- Let’s talk tomorrow. There’s movement on the investigation. Also, you and Belle will need to temporarily register as disciples of Yunkui Summit—consider it a disguise during your stay in Waifei Peninsula. -

Wise had barely finished reading the message when a tired sigh slipped out.
"Of course, this happens the moment I want to see Ly."

Another sigh followed, heavier this time. The mission wouldn't just take him far from home—it meant several days without seeing his wolfish lover.
And somehow, it stung even more knowing the separation came, technically, from Lycaon’s own superior.

“Guess I’ll just keep missing him…”

That night, after returning to the video store, he filled Belle in on the mayor’s message.
As expected, his sister insisted on sitting through every detail, even while constantly yawning and eyes falling shut.
Eventually, after enough reassurance that he’d handle the prep and she’d be more useful well-rested, she finally let herself be dragged off to bed.

Now, in the present, the air in the store was tinged with focus.
The call with the mayor had already started, his voice crisp and composed through the speakers.

“ I recently received a notice from the Hollow Investigative Association,” the mayor informed them, his screen still black. “They said Lemnian Hollow observation data has been frequently showing abnormal readings”

Belle’s brows furrowed.
Wise stayed quiet for now, listening.

“And that’s not all. The Porcelume supply has also been delayed.”

That made Wise shift in his seat.
"Porcelume... that's the special material used to block Ether... and it is under TOPS' management..."

That alone suggested potential interference or even worse—
It could lead to a conflict with them.

His eyes narrowed.
“So, we might run into TOPS”

It wasn’t a question. It was a read-between-the-lines statement.
A statement the mayor didn’t confirm, but didn’t deny either.

“Initially, I thought it was a production issue, until I received a photograph through a special channel...” the mayor said, pausing before continuing, “I’ll send it to you. I suspect you’re... very familiar with the person in it.”

Right after, an image file appeared on-screen—
first a low-res scan, then a clearer digital enhancement revealing a woman: a face they knew all too well.

Carole Arna. Their teacher.

“It's... it's our teacher... Carole Arna?” Belle said slowly, eyes narrowing. “And she’s there? …No. Something feels off about this whole thing.”

Wise couldn’t help but agree.
“I was thinking the same thing. Besides, if she's really there, then we need to be extra careful about keeping a low profile."

After a brief pause, he added quickly, Belle nodding quietly in agreement:
“We’ll take the commission.”

The mayor didn’t seem surprised at their response and continued to explain the next steps.
“I’ve already spoken with Yixuan. She’s been assigned to inspect the situation as a special investigator, and you two will be tagging along under the guise of Yunkui Summit disciples.”

He paused, then added,
“Leave the specifics of the operation to her. She just sent me a message saying she's getting ready to come meet you.”

The call ended shortly after that.

Wise exhaled shakily, barely realising how tightly he’d been gripping the edge of the table until his fingers ached.
His heart was still racing, thoughts clashing in his head like static as he still couldn’t believe what he’d just seen:
A direct lead. A trace of her. A picture of Carole, their teacher.

Proof that she might still be alive.

His gaze fell to the flickering edge of the now-dimmed screen.
The image was gone, but its presence lingered like an afterimage burned into his mind.

“…Hey, Belle,” he said softly, his voice was strained. “Do you think that photo of our teacher… is real?”

Belle didn’t respond immediately.
She glanced to the side, her jaw tightening ever so slightly, obviously caught in silent conflict.

Finally, she replied hesitantly,
“Not sure.”

Wise nodded slowly, his chest heavy with the same uncertainty.
“I feel the same,” he said after a pause, his voice dropping to a quiet mumble. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but… I really hope our teacher’s still alive.”

After that, silence—
A quiet with unspoken memories, longing, and doubt.
A hush that couldn't hide the loud chaos in both their hearts.

“But…” he said eventually, frowning, “if she is alive… why would she be in a place like that?”

Even saying it aloud made his stomach twist.
Something about it didn’t sit right—
A lead that came too easily, a location too conveniently distant, a place buried in instability.

And with that unease came a creeping doubt—
Doubt in the lead itself, in the timing, in the photo.
And beneath it all, a rising worry.
Not just for their goal, but especially for Belle.

As if sensing his spiraling thoughts, Belle finally spoke, cutting through the voices in his head.
“Let’s wait until we’ve investigated thoroughly.”

Wise blinked, then sighed. She was right.

He knew it, even as every instinct screamed for answers.
“You’re right, Belle...” he admitted, shoulders slumping slightly. “Thinking about it won’t get us anywhere. We need to go to Waifei Peninsula and investigate to understand what’s really happening.”

He leaned back, trying to ease the tightness pressing on his chest.
“So, let’s set it aside for now… and wait for Yixuan Shifu to arrive.”

As if right on cue, the bell above the door chimed, followed by Yixuan stepping in with her usual calm poise.

“Hello, you two,” she greeted, voice steady as she continued, “The mayor messaged me, he said you’ve accepted the commission. Is that right?”

Belle gave a firm nod.
“He said he found a photograph of Carole Arna in Waifei Peninsula,” she replied. “We want to get to the bottom of it.”

“Such devotion is… admirable,” Yixuan said after a brief pause, her gaze softening ever so slightly.
“Since we’ll be working together on this investigation, Yunkui Summit will, of course, support you in uncovering the origin of that photo.”

Both Belle and Wise offered respectful bows in unison.

“Thank you for giving our teacher the benefit of the doubt,” Belle said, her voice bright with sincerity.

Wise followed, quieter.
“We really appreciate it.”

Yixuan gave a modest nod in response.
“As part of our cooperation, I’ll need you both to join Yunkui Summit as nominal disciples.”

Noticing the hesitation in their eyes, she quickly added,
“Don’t worry—this is purely for the sake of convenience during the operation. It won’t be binding in any way. You’re also not required to follow formalities or call me ‘Shifu’ like the other disciples—”

“We’ll still call you Shifu!” Belle chimed brightly, already smiling. “You’re teaching us how to control our Ether aptitude, after all.”

Wise just nodded along in quiet agreement, resigned.

Yixuan sighed in defeat.
“You’re putting the cart before the horse… but I suppose it’s fine. Anyway—take this.”

She held out two neatly folded sets of robes—
Soft grey, accented with the signature deep orange that Wise immediately recognized.

“What’s this… a Yunkui Summit disciple’s uniform?” he asked, taking the fabric into his hands.

“Indeed,” Yixuan replied. “You are nominal disciples now. The uniforms will also help avert suspicion once we arrive.”

Wise frowned slightly as he examined the cloth, a faint discomfort settling in his chest.

It all felt very prepared… too prepared.
The disguises. The assigned identities. The immediate deployment.

The mayor hadn’t given them much detail beyond the basics...
Had he known more than he let on?
Was he hiding something to prevent them from hesitating?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Belle tilted her head, likely having picked up on the same unease.

“Shifu seems awfully well-prepared,” she teased. “Could it be that you’re actually eager to take in new disciples?”

Wise glanced at her, doing his best to mask the worry behind his eyes.
Belle, it seemed, had taken the whole situation much more lightly than he had.

Yixuan gave a quiet, amused exhale.
“Don’t make wild assumptions now, you two. It’s just that a reading I did had foretold these events. The result was… not very auspicious. So, rest assured—I have prepared for everything.”

Wise’s brow furrowed.
Her tone was calm and reassuring, but something about it made his stomach knot.

“Prepared for everything?” he echoed cautiously.

“…I took out insurance policies,” Yixuan admitted after a brief pause. “You’re also covered.”

His breath caught. That wasn’t a reassuring answer—
That was an answer people gave when they were expecting something to go very wrong.

And as if on cue, FAIRY’s voice—ever so calm, cold, and clinical—chimed in from the projector on the shelf behind them.
“Master, urgent reminder: Big data forecasting shows that this investigation may conflict with the interests of TOPS. The probability of you encountering an accident is over 91.3%.”

Wise felt the blood drain from his face.
His heart thudded wildly as the unease he’d been trying to suppress turned into cold dread.

"Ninety-one point three percent."—
FAIRY’s words echoed in his mind like a death knell, muting everything around him.

He was so consumed by worry, he barely registered the back-and-forth between Belle and Yixuan—
His thoughts spiraling too fast, too loud.

It wasn’t until Yixuan spoke again that he was pulled back into the room:

“The Mayflower made special arrangements and dedicated an airship route to this operation. He also prepared a temporary HDD device for you in Waifei Peninsula. However, one of you must go there first while the other stays behind for remote tuning.”

Belle didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll go first!” she said brightly. “Wise can stay behind for remote tuning while I scope out the situation. He can join us when everything’s settled.”

Wise blinked, still trying to catch up before his instincts started ringing like sirens.
“Belle, I should go first!” he blurted, worry gripping his voice.

But she turned to him with that familiar, defiant spark in her eyes, hands planted firmly on her hips.
“Excuse you, it’s Junior Belle! Seems I’m the more professional one here... It’s decided. I’ll go first.”

He immediately opened his mouth to argue, but the look on her face shut him down instantly.
That was Belle—once she made up her mind, not even the gods could stop her.

“But…” he mumbled weakly.

Her tone softened, just enough to ease the knot forming in his chest.
“Wise, it’s fine, really. Besides, Shifu’s with me. I’m sure we can handle anything.”

Before he could try again, she was already halfway up the stairs, the newly given disciple uniform clutched tightly in her hands.

Wise exhaled slowly, shoulders tight with unease.
He hated letting her walk into the unknown like this—
No matter how experienced they were. No matter how capable she was.

And Belle was capable.

Still, it didn’t stop the protective thoughts from stacking up in his mind like a firewall he couldn’t shut off.

A few minutes passed before she returned.

Her footsteps were light on the stairs, but the moment she appeared, Wise paused.
The outfit suited her far more than he expected—
The layered orange and gray, crisp and clean, accented by her usual playful accessories.

She wore it all with unshaken confidence.

He smiled, just a little.
“Belle… Ahem, I mean Junior Belle. These clothes really suit you.”

That earned him a cheeky grin.
“You think so? Then try on yours too!”

Wise only shook his head and waved her off, stepping forward instead and placing his hands gently on her shoulders—
His tone shifted as the older brother in him took over, his voice full of worry for his younger sister.
“Once you get to Waifei Peninsula, remember to boot up your computer so we can debug the HDD system together remotely. Also, don’t forget to call me immediately when you arrive and—"

“Okay, okay, I know!” Belle cut in with a laugh, batting his hands away. “I won’t forget! I’ll give you a call once I’m settled over there.”

She then turned on her heel before he could patronise her further, now joining Yixuan at the door.

But just before stepping out, she glanced back at him with a smug little grin.
“Oh, by the way—I called in some help so you’re not stuck running the store alone while you’re busy with the HDD system!”

Wise blinked.
“Wait—who did you—?”

But the door had already shut behind her.

Wise stood there in silence, staring at the now-closed door for a moment longer than he probably should have. Then he let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
Defeat clung to his shoulders like a weighted blanket as he rubbed his temples.

"Who did she pester for that…?" he muttered to himself, already picturing the number of messages Belle had likely sent out to their chaotic circle of acquaintances.

As the creeping dread began to settle in again—the same sinking feeling he’d been trying to shake since the mayor's call—he turned his gaze toward the counter.
Bangboo 18 stood there, swaying rhythmically from side to side, its rabbit-like ears flopping with each bounce.

“Nhu-nah-nhu nhe-neh!”
(Leave it to me!! I’ll work hard today, too~~!!)

Wise stared at it and blinked. Then sighed again.
“Sometimes I wish I could be one-dimensional like you,” he said flatly. “Cute, committed, and oblivious to existential dread.”

In return, the little helper spun in place with a joyful chirp, clearly proud of itself.

Watching it so raring to go, Wise was reminded of the tasks still waiting for him.
He then turned around, ready to head towards the staffroom to start setting up for the HDD diagnostics when a sudden knock echoed from the entrance.

Wise paused mid-step.
“Already…?”

He hadn’t expected anyone to arrive that fast.
Still, assuming it was Belle’s so-called helper, he dragged himself towards the door, already rehearsing a polite but firm:
"Thanks, but I’ve got it covered."

He then opened the door.

And froze—
The line died right in his throat.

Standing there in the morning light, as if he belonged nowhere else, was a tall, composed figure—
Fluffy white ears perked high, a tail flicking lazily behind him.

Wise’s eyes widened.
“L–Ly!? What are you doing here?”

Lycaon offered a graceful bow, one hand resting over his chest.

“Victoria Housekeeping,” he said with a faint, amused smile. “Your sister submitted a formal request for assistance. I’ve been dispatched accordingly.”

Wise stood there, still holding the door open like a malfunctioning NPC, completely short-circuited by the realisation that this was who Belle had sent.

Not some tech nerd like Grace, who’d probably rewrite half their systems and turn the whole thing into one of her beloved “children.”
Not the ever-eager Vivian, who would’ve shown up not only with a tray of homemade snacks, but probably also a self-knitted blanket featuring Phaethon.
No, Belle had bypassed all the obvious choices.

She sent Lycaon.

His lover.
His source of endless, chaotic heart palpitations.

Wise could feel his emotions piling on top of each other like a poorly coded program:
anxiety for Belle, lingering dread about their teacher, hope spurred by that photo, confusion over Lycaon's presence, affection, maybe even relief.

And now all of it was crashing down at once—
His body didn’t know whether it wanted to panic, cry, or melt on the spot.

So he just stood there.
Staring. Frozen. Overwhelmed.

Lycaon tilted his head, his white-silver fur catching the light as concern flickered in his sharp, ever-calm eyes.
“Are you feeling unwell, my love?” he asked softly.

That voice—smooth and low, like a steady anchor tossed into the stormy sea of his spiraling thoughts—was what finally pulled Wise out of the trance.

Before his brain could even talk him out of it, his body moved.
Without a word he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Lycaon’s torso, before pressing his forehead firmly against his chest.

The fabric of Lycaon’s uniform was cool and crisp, but beneath it, there was warmth—
A steady heartbeat. A reassuring presence.
Something real to hold on to.

“J…just let me feel your presence for a bit,” Wise murmured, his voice muffled against Lycaon’s chest.

Lycaon blinked, mildly surprised.
Then his expression softened—
Touched not just by the gesture, but by the rare sight of Wise allowing himself to be vulnerable and open in a way he so rarely let himself be.

He returned the embrace, arms closing around Wise with quiet assurance, and rested his cheek lightly atop his lover’s head.
“Of course.”

For a moment, neither of them moved as the world around them seemed to fade away, and the only thing Wise could feel in that moment was him—
There was only the rise and fall of Lycaon’s breath.
Only the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat.
Only that faint scent of cedar and Earl Grey that always clung to him.

It grounded Wise.
Let him breathe. Let him be.

After a while, Lycaon spoke again, his voice soft and almost teasing.
“Would you like to stand here and hug for the rest of the morning, or may I come inside and begin fulfilling my official housekeeping duties, as requested by your delightful sister?”

Wise groaned into his chest.
“Please don’t make this weirder than it already is.”

“You hugged me first, my dear.”

“J—Just come inside before the neighbours see.”

Lycaon chuckled, kissed the top of Wise’s head, and stepped inside with unhurried grace.
As he entered, the morning light caught on his snow-white hair just before the door clicked shut behind him.
He then moved with quiet composure, heading straight to the counter like he’d been there a hundred times.

Wise, on the other hand, lingered at the door for a beat, watching him go before finally following after him.
By the time he reached the counter, Lycaon had already taken position:
Standing tall, one hand resting at his lower back, the other placed lightly over his chest in that butler-like poise.

Yet despite the formality, his tail swayed slowly behind him, sometimes giving a faster flick.
It was subtle, but still entirely at odds with his prim posture—
A quiet tell that betrayed just how relaxed and content he truly was in Wise’s presence.

Lycaon then turned toward him, voice smooth as ever.
“I’ve been roughly briefed on the situation. Your sister gave me a concise summary of the investigation and your HDD workload. I’ll handle the store so you can focus on system calibration and maintenance without distraction.”

Wise blinked, momentarily thrown off by how effortlessly Lycaon had stepped into the role.
Of course, this was always how he was—collected, competent, maddeningly calm.

“I’m really sorry Belle dragged you into this…” he muttered, guilt creeping in as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re probably swamped with other clients.”

Lycaon tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shook his head.
“No need to apologize. I volunteered when she reached out to Victoria Housekeeping.”

Wise looked up, surprised.
“You… volunteered?”

That earned him a low chuckle from the Thiren, his voice sounding warm, affectionate, and just a little amused.
“How could I not? I’d be a fool to pass up the chance to see you again.”

Wise swore he could feel his brain short-circuiting for the second time that morning.
His heart pounded like it was trying to make a break for it, heat rushing to his cheeks, slowly tinging them a soft rosy pink.

He turned away at once, trying to hide the blush spreading across his face.
“S-Stop charming me…” he mumbled into his sleeve.

Lycaon leaned in, just enough to make Wise twitch without laying a finger on him.
“Never. I’ll keep doing so until my last breath.”

Wise let out a strangled sound, halfway between a groan and a whimper, as he buried his face in his hands.
“I’m supposed to be working!”

“And I’m supposed to be helping,” Lycaon replied, already slipping behind the counter right next to Bangboo 18.
“Go on. The HDD system won’t calibrate itself. I’ll take care of customers and keep the store from collapsing in your absence.”

Wise glanced at him—his dashing lover now giving the little robot a small bow, to which it responded with an enthusiastic spin— and sighed in defeat
“J-Just call me if there are problems,” he muttered, already walking towards the back room.

“Don't worry, my love,” Lycaon called after him with a gentle smile, “Just concentrate on your task.”

As Wise entered the staff room and closed the door behind him, he leaned against it for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath.

The words still echoed in his ears like a song he couldn’t shut off:
“Never, I'll continue doing so until my last breath.”

They clung to him, his heart swelling with emotion, but the warmth it brought was quickly followed by something else...Unease.
The same unease that had been gnawing at him since the call from the mayor—
Since Belle had volunteered. Since he’d let her walk out that door.

His thoughts spun in chaotic loops, and without meaning to, they started pulling back to the past few days.
To be exact, to the quiet moments where he’d found himself sitting in silence, wrestling with a question that had no clean answer:

"How can you promise forever if it isn't guaranteed?"

He had been chasing that answer, wondering what marriage meant in a life like his—
A life where danger loomed at every turn.
A life where "tomorrow" was never guaranteed.
A life where—

Wise caught himself instantly, cutting off the spiral before it could pull him deeper.
"Belle is out there. Alone. Get yourself together Wise."

The thought struck hard, and guilt crept in—fast, heavy, and sharp.

"What am I doing, standing here lost in thoughts?"

He was wasting time. Getting caught up in feelings. Allowing himself to indulge in warmth while his sister could be walking straight into danger.
He clenched his fists, the familiar anxiety twisting in his gut like barbed wire, as he tried to drag his mind into sharper focus through sheer pressure.

"No. Stop thinking. Just work."

He then dropped into his chair and powered on the terminal.
The soft hum of the HDD system initialising filled the room—
Numbers flashed, code began compiling, and diagnostic readouts scrolled across the screen.

As the familiar rhythm of the system took over, Wise felt his focus begin to narrow, and the world outside his mind slowly started to fade.

He worked. Obsessively. Precisely. Relentlessly.
His fingers danced across the keyboard as if trying to chase the storm of thoughts away with keystrokes.
Every second spent adjusting the calibration protocols or monitoring the Ether pulse response felt like a kind of penance.

Because if he couldn’t be beside Belle right now…
Then he would make damn sure everything on his end ran perfectly.

And if he focused hard enough, maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t hear Lycaon's voice repeating in the back of his head.
Wouldn’t feel the ache of guilt and longing pulling at his ribs like splinters.
Wouldn’t feel the weight in his chest, as if his heart had been split across continents—
torn between the drive to reach their goal at any cost, and the life he was risking with the lover waiting for him.

So Wise buried himself even deeper into his work, trying his best to avoid these complicated feelings.

But every so often, the door would creak softly open, followed by a familiar voice that always seemed to know just when to appear.
“Water,” Lycaon would say gently, setting down a cool glass beside him.

And sometimes, the butler would place a small plate on the table—fruit slices, a warm bun, a few bite-sized sweets—and murmur,
“I’ve prepared some snacks.” 

Wise barely responded at first, too wrapped up in the numbers, in the distant hum of data and his spiraling thoughts.
But over time, the gentle routine carved out by Lycaon's subtle presence began to anchor him, even when he couldn't bring himself to eat more than a bite or two.
Nevertheless, just knowing someone was watching out for him eased the edge of isolation.

Still, no amount of snacks or soft encouragement could stop the slow escalation of worry building in Wise’s chest.

The sun had already begun its descent, casting elongated shadows across the shop.
Bangboo 18 quietly powered down in the corner, having long since finished its simple, programmed duties for the day.

But Yixuan and Belle still hadn’t contacted him.
Not once.

"They should've arrived by now."

Earlier, he’d told himself it might just be the airship transfers.
Had reassured himself that docking protocols could take longer than expected.
Had convinced himself that security checks might be slowing them down.

But even accounting for all that...
It shouldn’t be this long—
Should take at most half a day 

And still—
No messages.
No updates.
Nothing from either of them.

His hands hovered above the keyboard as a new, chilling thought slid in:
"What if something went wrong on route?"

Panic surged, sharp and fast, but he forced himself to breathe.
"Calm down. Focus. Think."

He needed something to ground him, to pull him out of the spiral.
Maybe looking at the Lemnian Hollow data again would help.
Not just to pass the time—
But to keep his mind occupied, to feel in control, to pretend everything was still on track.

Yet, it didn’t help.
If anything, it only made things worse.

The moment he re-ran the isolated sequence from the peninsula's observation logs, the calibration screen flickered strangely, almost like static interference.
Worse, the Ether signature analysis didn’t match anything previously recorded in the area. 
There were far too many distortions—
Too many to blame on the Miasma alone, even accounting for the unusually high density there.

The longer he stared at the numbers and the flickering screen, the more the data seemed to unravel into questions without answers.
And the more it did, the stronger the dread in his stomach grew.

"Belle… where are you?"

His hands trembled, still hovering over the keyboard.
And for the first time that day, he wasn’t sure if continuing to work would ease the fear...
Or make it worse.

He didn’t even notice Lycaon walking in this time.
“Wise,” came that deep, gentle voice behind him again.

Wise startled, blinking at the screen as if that might somehow summon Belle.

Lycaon tilted his head.
“You're pale. Have you eaten any of the food I brought?”

“I… I had the tea,” Wise murmured, barely audible.

“And the fruit?”

“…Some.”

Lycaon stepped closer, and Wise felt the warmth of his presence again—
steady, calming, and grounding.

But even that warmth couldn’t stop the words from slipping out of him, ragged and breathless:
“…Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

Lycaon didn’t reply at once.
Instead, he placed a firm hand on Wise’s shoulder, anchoring him in the moment.

“First, breathe,” he said gently.
“Then eat. You won’t be of any use to Belle—or yourself—on an empty stomach. I’ll finish closing up. Just focus on stabilising yourself for now.”

Wise hesitated, chest still tight with dread.
But Lycaon’s voice left little room for refusal.

He gave a small, reluctant nod.
“…Okay.”

He reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the snack tray Lycaon had brought earlier, and picked up one of the buns.
His hands were shaking so badly that it took more effort than expected just to lift it to his mouth.

Only once he took that tiny bite did Lycaon finally leave the room, the quiet sound of his footsteps trailing off towards the front as he began closing up the shop.

Alone again, Wise tried to chew, tried his best to swallow it down—
Both the dread and bun.

But the food sat heavy on his tongue, and the trembling in his limbs only worsened.
His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, clinging to it like it might keep him from drowning in the rising tide of dread.

He reached for his glass of water—
And in the motion, a piece of the bun filling slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a quiet thud.
He didn’t even flinch at that, but what did make him flinch was the sudden vibration of his phone in his jacket pocket.

The jolt made his breath hitch.
With shaking fingers, he fumbled it out, eyes already scanning the screen.

A message.

Yixuan Shifu:
- We were attacked. The airship crashed into a Hollow.
- I’m bringing Belle somewhere safe, so that she can contact you and tell you what exactly happened.

The room tilted, and he couldn’t breathe.
The words blurred—Belle, crashed, attacked —ringing in his ears like sirens.

Then came the crash of guilt, sudden and suffocating.
"It should’ve been me. I should’ve gone first. She only volunteered because I hesitated—"

Suddenly, a soft chime cut through his spiraling thoughts, drawing his eyes to the screen.

Incoming call – HDD Remote Link Active

His head snapped up, heart pounding.
And without even thinking twice, he instantly accepted the call.

“Hello? Belle, can you hear me?” he asked, voice full of worry. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

There was static at first, a flicker of unstable connection.
Then—

“I can hear you,” came Belle’s voice, a little fuzzy but unmistakably hers.
“But… aren’t you using the wrong title? Ahem! You should be calling me Junior Belle!”

Wise’s breath caught, but he didn’t miss a beat.
“Seriously, Belle? Now’s not the time for jokes! Shifu sent me a message earlier. She said that your airship had an accident and you were attacked... What’s going on?”

There was a brief pause.
On-screen, Belle’s expression shifted—
Her eyes flicked nervously to the side before she finally spoke.
“I was followed by some strangers when I fell into the Hollow. Thankfully, Shifu was there, so I got out in one piece.”

Her gaze wandered again, evasive—
Like she was still piecing things together... or hiding something.

“However...,” she continued, voice quieter now, “given everything that’s happened… it’s best if you stay home. Forget about coming here.”

Wise shot up from his chair, eyes wide with disbelief.
“I can’t do that! What if something happens to you and I can’t get there in time?!”

His voice trembled as his frustration boiled over.
“Besides, Yixuan Shifu was going to teach us how to adapt to our Ether potentials. I don’t want to be a liability to you when we run into danger in the future!”

Belle stared at him through the screen, silent for a moment, then gave a slow nod.

When she spoke again, her tone was calm—
Measured and careful, trying her best to reason with her brother.
“I get it… I do. But it isn’t safe here, not right now. If you’re coming, we’ll need to find the right time. Rushing in blind isn’t going to help anyone.”

She hesitated. 
“You’re better off with a safer alternative. I’ll talk to Shifu, but I don’t think it’ll happen before the day after tomorrow.”

Wise slammed his palms onto the desk, the sound cracking through the small room.

“Belle—!”

But she didn’t let him finish.

Her voice cut in, sharp and firm, leaving no room for argument.
“Alright, I gotta go. Something’s happening over here—I need to check it out. I’ll talk to Shifu about your travel arrangements later.”

Her face was tense now, posture alert.
And before Wise could protest again, the screen flickered—

Then went black.

Wise stood there—motionless—staring at the monitor.
His breath was loud in his ears, hands still pressed against the desk, heart beating like a drum in his chest.

“She expects me to do nothing after hearing all that…?”

The silence of the room felt suffocating.

He hesitated only for a heartbeat before making his decision—
No amount of protocols could hold him back when it came to Belle.

Without a second thought, he snatched the car keys from the staffroom table and shoved them into his pocket in one swift motion, as he strode towards the door.
But the moment he swung it open—
Lycaon was already there, standing firm in the doorway, blocking his path.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the Thiren asked, voice low and steady.

“What do you think you’re doing? Out of my way!” Wise snapped, attempting to push past him, but ultimately failing.

Lycaon remained in the same spot, expression still calm but resolute.
“Belle contacted me. She said to make sure you’re safe. You must stay here.”

A bitter laugh slipped out before Wise even realised it, his voice cracking as he spoke.
“Keeping me safe… when it’s Belle who’s in danger? Let me go!”

Lycaon shook his head.
“No.”

His body—every single cell of it—began to tremble as panic took over.
With a desperate shout, Wise demanded, “I have to get to Belle! Stop being so unreasonable!”

Their eyes locked—
A tense standoff of fear, conviction, and resolve.

Lycaon’s voice stayed calm, but there was unmistakable strain beneath it.
“Wise, I understand your fear. I understand why you’re panicking. But please—be reasonable. Look at the bigger picture.”

Wise’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“The bigger picture? Seriously?”

Without warning, he lunged forward again, trying to shove past Lycaon with all the desperation in his body—
But it was like running into a wall, as the Thiren was much taller and stronger than him; trying was futile.

Lycaon didn’t budge, didn't even flinch at his attempt.
Instead, he placed a firm hand on Wise’s shoulder, still trying to reason with his young lover.
“Yixuan is there. They can handle it,” Lycaon said, his tone gentle, patient, but unwavering.

Those words hit Wise like a splash of ice water, and everything inside him rose—
terror, rage, helplessness.

“I know she’s there!” he shouted, voice cracking.
“But I’m not! I’m stuck here like some—urgh—useless ornament! What if something happens to Belle, and I’m not there? What if she needs me? What if—”

His chest heaved; his thoughts spiraled.
He pushed again. Pushed harder. But it was still futile.

Then his fists were against Lycaon’s chest.
He wasn’t really punching; they were more like taps than real blows—
Weak, useless, frustrated motions, as if trying to strike down fate itself.

“Let me go! Dammit, let me go! Don’t stop me!” he shouted, voice breaking more as he slammed his fists again. “I have to—I have to go—!”

“No,” Lycaon said quietly, arms still resting protectively on his shoulder—
Never retaliating. Never raising his voice.

And that was what broke Wise the most.
That steady, calm no—as if his panic was unjustified.
That quiet, immovable wall—blocking him from reaching his sister.
His lover, standing in the way of every attempt—verbal or physical.

Wise stared up at him, trembling, barely able to breathe.
“Why can’t you understand me?!”

Their eyes locked again, and it was clear:
Neither of them was going to back down.

“I do understand you,” Lycaon said, voice still firm.

That only enraged Wise more.

“If you did, you’d let me go!” he shouted, the sound nearly shattering under the weight of his despair. “Why can't you?! Why won't you just listen to what I'm saying?!”

Lycaon stepped forward, his hands moving slowly towards Wise’s wrists—
gripping them firmly, not harshly, as he lowered them like something fragile on the verge of breaking.

“Why can’t you listen to me, Wise?” he bit back, no longer hiding the tension in his voice. “The one being unreasonable here is you!”

Wise’s breath hitched, caught between a scream and a sob.
“I am not! How dare you say that when we’re talking about Belle’s safety!”

“Please,” Lycaon said quickly, trying to ease his tone, “Wise, just calm down—”

“How could I be calm?!” Wise screamed, shoving forward again, eyes wide and wild. “How can you say I’m being unreasonable when I literally risk my life every single day as a Proxy?!"

His voice cracked hard at the end as he was still desperately trying to get through, anguish bleeding through every syllable, every breath, every clenched muscle.
"I don’t care what happens to me as long as Belle’s safe! I can’t lose her! I can’t lose someone again!”

And then—he found it.

A narrow slip in Lycaon’s stance.
A half-second of imbalance.

Wise jerked to the side, slipping past the tall Thiren—
Only for Lycaon to move with lightning speed.

Two strong arms caught him from behind, hooking under his armpits and locking tight around his chest.
Solid. Unyielding. Inescapable.

Wise thrashed wildly.
“Let me GO!” he screamed, tears spilling freely down his cheeks as his legs kicked uselessly against the floor, fighting the hold with everything he had.

But Lycaon didn’t release him.
He only held him tighter.

“I won’t!” Lycaon shouted back, voice cracking under the weight of emotion. “Even if you end up hating me—I won’t let you go!”

Wise struggled harder, muscles burning, vision blurred from rage and grief.
“Lycaon! Let me go! If I die, then I die! I have to do everything I can to protect her!”—

Silence.
No shout. No argument.
Only the sound of their ragged, uneven breaths filling the space between them.

And then, for just a moment, Wise froze—
Something had shifted behind him.
A change he hadn’t sensed seconds ago.

Lycaon wasn’t just breathing hard.
His entire body was trembling, fur bristling with raw agitation, fingers digging into Wise with anything but gentleness.

And then—
The world suddenly shifted.

“Wha—?!”

Wise yelped as he was suddenly lifted off the ground and flung over Lycaon’s shoulder like a sack of flour.
With one arm wrapped tightly around the backs of Wise’s legs, Lycaon strode forward—
Not towards the exit. But towards the stairs.

“Lycaon!” Wise shouted, squirming against the hold. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Lycaon said nothing at first.
His breathing was still shallow, and each step up the stairs echoed like thunder in the tension between them.

Halfway up, he stopped.
Completely still.
One claw scraped lightly along the railing. His whole frame trembled.

Then, in a voice low, raw, and strained with the weight of what he was forcing himself to say:
“…If I can’t talk you into caring for yourself… into staying here…”

A pause. A deep and shaky breath—
Like he had to pull the next words from somewhere buried and bruised.

His voice cracked completely, the pain unmistakable as he spoke the final line:
“…Then I guess I have to make it impossible for your legs to move.”

Lycaon then continued walking up, each step heavier than the last.
And those words, those shattered and broken words, hit Wise like a punch to the chest.

“No… no, stop it!” Wise screamed, slamming his fists against Lycaon’s back. “Don’t you dare! Don’t do something you’ll regret!”

His voice broke too, raw with anguish.
“The only one who’s going to hate you is yourself! Don’t do that to yourself, Lycaon!”

The Thiren didn’t stop, but he did flinch—
Just slightly, barely a hitch in his stride, but enough for Wise to know his words had struck home.

“Lycaon! I know what this is—your instincts are screaming at you, right? You think if you can lock me down, I’ll be safe. But you’re not a cage! You’re not some cruel monster! Don’t do this to yourself!”

He struck his back again—harder this time.
Not with hate. With desperation.

“Please,” Wise choked out, voice cracking like glass, “don’t protect me at the cost of your own soul. I can’t bear it.”

Lycaon took another step.
His knees nearly gave out, was shaking even harder now.

Wise felt it—
He could feel it radiating through every inch of Lycaon’s body.

There was no rage in him—
No fury in the way he moved.
No violence in the way he held him.

And Wise knew, without needing words:
It wasn’t anger that had pushed Lycaon this far.
It was the unbearable fear of loss—
Of losing someone who meant everything.

A fear Wise had experienced just minutes ago.
And now, Lycaon stood at that same edge.

“Ly!” Wise screamed, still struggling, trembling as the realisation slowly hit him. “Calm down and rethink what you’re about to do! I beg of you! I—”

But before he could finish his plea, everything shifted.
And the pressure around his middle released just long enough for Lycaon to lift and set him down.

Wise blinked, disoriented.
A familiar couch. His room.

And before he could speak again, two strong arms caged him in, pressing him down into the cushions—
Not with brute force, but with sheer presence.

Lycaon hovered over him, barely an inch away.
His crimson eye locked onto Wise’s—
An intense gaze from which Wise couldn’t look away, because in it, he saw everything laid bare:
Fear. Sorrow. Anger. Despair.

All of it reflected in Lycaon’s gaze.
And all of it made Wise’s heart seize in his chest—
Because never had he seen his lover look so wrecked.

But before he could open his mouth, before he could even whisper a single "I’m sorry" for speaking so carelessly about death—
Lycaon suddenly yanked open his jacket.

His voice snapped like a whip as his hands clamped around Wise’s wrist, eyes scanning him, analysing every single part of his body.
“Visible signs of neglect—dammit, Wise! You’ve lost weight. A lot since the last time we saw each other!"

He then pressed two fingers against the inside of Wise’s wrist, jaw clenched.
“Your skin’s ice-cold, your pulse is a mess—too faint, too erratic…” he muttered, more to himself than to Wise now. “ It's like your body’s barely holding on.”

Wise tensed under him, guilt flaring hot in his chest.

“And these?” Lycaon’s fingers were now moving beneath Wise's eyes, “Dark circles. You’re not sleeping. Again."

His voice dropped, quieter but no less sharp.
“Let me guess—you haven’t had a proper meal in how long? Days? Weeks?”

Wise flinched at his accusations, unable to meet his gaze.
But Lycaon wouldn’t let him turn away, wouldn't let him brush it off.

“Don’t you dare look away right now!” he barked, his voice rising with each word. “You’ve been burning yourself out. You think no one notices? You think I wouldn't notice?!”

Wise opened his mouth to speak—
But Lycaon cut right over him, voice cracking with barely restrained desperation:
“ Dammit, Wise! How long were you planning to keep doing this to yourself? Until you collapse? Until you’re nothing but code and caffeine?”

Wise stared at Lycaon, stunned.
He had never heard his lover like this.
Not frantic. Not furious in this way.

And never—not even once—had he heard him curse.
Not a single “dammit.” Not from Lycaon.
No matter how deeply frustrated or angry he was.

And then it hit its breaking point.
Lycaon’s voice cracked, rough with emotion, sounding almost like a desperate cry:
“Why can’t you look after yourself like you do for others? Why can’t you treasure your life as much as they do? As much as I do”

The room went still.
And in that moment, he saw it—
He saw what he had done.

How far he had pushed Lycaon.
How much he had cornered him—
Had cornered him like an animal backed into a wall with no choice but to act on instinct.

Not for his survival…
…but for his partner’s.

Wise’s chest tightened painfully.
His fear hadn’t just blinded him—it had blinded Lycaon too.
And now here he was, the Thiren trembling like a leaf, gripped by the very real fear of losing him.

Suddenly, Wise’s own words came crashing back like a slap to the face:
“If I die, then I die.”

God. What had he done?

Wise eventually managed to open his mouth, but still, no words came out.
Only a sharp, shallow breath—
And a raw, visible guilt that twisted through his face as he looked up at the man still shaking above him.

His lover.
His protector.
The one person who would rather break his own heart than risk Wise doing something reckless.

And he’d nearly pushed him past his limit.

“I-I’m so sorry, Lycaon… I… I didn’t mean to talk so easily about death, I—”

But Lycaon cut in, not harshly this time, but firm.
“I don’t want an apology... I want you to value yourself.”

Wise’s breath hitched at that. 
Unable to speak. Unable to comment. Unable to answer this plea.

Then, Lycaon’s trembling hands gently took his—
So gentle as though the Thiren was afraid that if he let go, Wise might vanish.

“You think about everyone else… but you always forget yourself,” Lycaon whispered, voice so delicate it felt like it could break apart with just a breeze.

Wise glanced down his body instinctively, and for the first time...
He really looked, finally saw what everyone else saw—
What Lycaon saw:

The way his shirt hung too loosely from his frame.
The pale color of his fingers.
The sharp edges of his wrist protruding beneath Lycaon’s trembling palm.

“…You’re right,” he murmured, the words rough and small, like he was admitting it not just to Lycaon—but also to himself.

“You’re right to call me out. I… I always do this. I push myself until I’m half-functioning and pretend it’s strength. Pretend it’s noble. I just… I want to be strong—for Belle. For everyone. But I’ll do better, Ly. I swear. I’ll take better care of myself, for—”

“No.”

Lycaon’s voice immediately interrupted him, stopping him like a wall.
His eyes searched for Wise’s, quietly insistent, like he couldn’t speak the next words without that connection.

“Wise… my love...” he said, breath catching. “I don’t want you to do it for me.”

He then paused, his chest rising with a shaky inhale before he continued.
“You should do it for your own sake.”

Wise didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
There was something in Lycaon’s voice now—not anger, not desperation.
Something quieter, something deeper.

A breaking point that had collapsed into begging.

“Please,” Lycaon continued, voice barely holding together, “... think about it. How do you want to reach your goal if you die before you get there?”

The words echoed, cutting through the chaos in Wise’s mind with terrifying clarity.
And for a moment, everything stilled.

He sat frozen, eyes wide, hands shaking, as the enormity of what he’d nearly done crashed over him in waves.
His fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his pants as the realisation sank deeper:

How foolish.
How reckless.
How unlike him it had been.

He’d always seen himself as the responsible one.
The calm mind. The voice of reason beside Belle’s impulsive fire.

And yet—
What he’d just done.
What he had been willing to do...
Even Belle wouldn’t have gone that far.

The thought hit Wise like a blow, and with it came the weight—
The Guilt. The Shame. The Regret.
A quiet, creeping horror at how close he’d come to breaking something too precious to mend.

And then, Lycaon’s voice cut into the silence again, shaking.
“Why… why can’t you see how much it would hurt if you were really gone?”

Wise looked up, lips quivering as he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

“How much it would hurt and devastate your friends… " the Thiren said, voice strained, trembling with the pain of even imagining it, "how Belle would be left to fight your battles alone, if you were gone, and… and…”

Wise watched in stunned disbelief as the man in front of him—
As calm, proud, and unshakably loyal Lycaon was breaking.

A single tear slid from his crimson eye.
Then another.

“How big of a gaping hole you would leave in my heart…”

His voice then dropped to a whisper, raw and breaking, the final words barely more than a breath.
“Wise, please... I don’t want to lose you.”

Wise didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Because his chest ached too much.
Because the sight of Lycaon—his Lycaon—falling apart in front of him was a pain that hollowed him from the inside out.

He had never seen him like this.
Had never imagined the older man could fall this far.

Wise's body then moved—
Moved before his mind could even catch up.
Like instinct. Like breathing.

He reached forward and pulled Lycaon down onto the couch with him, holding him close, arms wrapping tightly around the trembling man’s broad back.
Lycaon collapsed into him without resistance—
He collapsed as if everything had finally spilled over and there was nothing left to hold together.

Wise wrapped his arms around him with quiet urgency, one hand curling into Lycaon’s hair, the other splayed protectively along his spine.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice slightly trembling, too. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Lycaon’s arms slid around him immediately, pulling Wise in with a trembling desperation that sent a pang through the Proxy's chest.

The grip wasn’t suffocating...
It was grounding—
Like Lycaon needed the contact to anchor himself in the moment.
Like he feared, Wise might slip away, disappear like smoke in the wind.

Needed it to tell himself that he was still safe in his arms.

Wise leaned into the embrace, breathing in the familiar, steadying scent before murmuring, voice low and shaky.
“I know you don’t want to hear an apology… but I’m still sorry. Sorry for making you—and everyone else—worry about me. For treating myself so recklessly. For… almost unnecessarily putting myself in danger.”

As he spoke, his hand gently moved up until his fingers cupped Lycaon’s face.
He lifted his gaze, making sure Lycaon saw the sincerity in his eyes:
The guilt. The regret. But also the growing strength behind his words.

“I… I promise to value myself more,” Wise continued, his voice slowly finding its footing, each word bringing him back to himself.
“And while danger isn’t something we can ever truly avoid… I promise I won’t put myself at risk without thinking. Without really considering the safest way to act. I’ll do it—for Belle, for everyone who cares about me. And for you.”

His voice softened, becoming something vulnerable and tender.
“I’ll do it so that I’ll always come back to you.”

Lycaon’s breath caught audibly, and without a word, he pulled Wise tighter, burying his face against his shoulder.
For a long, fragile moment, the room was still—
Just the sound of their breathing filling the quiet.

Then Lycaon leaned back, just enough to look into Wise’s eyes.
“So… will you stay here?” he asked, voice faltering as the words tumbled out. “I beg you… please don’t go. Not yet. Wait until it’s safe. Please.”

The pleading in his voice fractured something deeper inside Wise—
A deep and quiet place inside of him he’d long ignored:
The part of him that had spent years putting others first without ever realising what that self-neglect did to the people who loved him.

He nodded softly and lifted a hand, fingers running gently through Lycaon’s thick silver hair, trying to soothe his partner.
“I promise,” Wise whispered. “I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere… not until there’s a safe way for me to meet Belle.”

Then he leaned in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Lycaon’s lips.
It was gentle, but full—
Full of emotion. Full of meaning. Full of reassuring presence. 

When he pulled back, there was the faintest, tired smile tugging at his lips.
“I’ll come back to her,” he murmured. “And I’ll always come back to you, too.”

Lycaon let out a shaky exhale, like something inside him had finally let go.
He eventually lowered his forehead to rest against Wise’s, and while his hands were still trembling, the storm in his eye had slowly started to settle—
Still cloudy with fear, but no longer on the verge of breaking.

Wise slowly ran a hand down Lycaon’s back, soothing and gentle.
But he could still feel it...
The faint tremor in his muscles. The tension locked into every inch of his body. 

Even Lycaon’s tail remained stiff—
Curling awkwardly behind him, like he was still stuck in survival mode.

“You’re still trembling, Ly…” Wise whispered, voice low and full of quiet concern.

Lycaon’s eyes fluttered shut at the words, and his lips parted with a strained breath.
“I… I know you’re here,” he murmured. “Every sense is telling me you are. I can feel your warmth, hear your voice… even smell your skin—everything says you’re right in front of me.”

He swallowed hard, forehead still resting against Wise’s.
“But my heart and mind won’t catch up. It still feels like I could lose you at any moment. Like I’m just one breath away from…”

His voice cracked once more.
“... From losing the love of my life.”

Wise’s chest ached.
And before another second could pass, without thought and out of impulsiveness, he leaned in and kissed him.

It was gentle at first. Steadying. Calming—
A grounding point of contact.

But as the kiss deepened, growing slowly more desperate, Wise’s arms slipped around Lycaon’s neck, his legs wrapping around Lycaon’s waist—
Pulling him closer. Pouring wordless reassurance into every movement.
And with every fiber of his body, he tried to tell his wolfish lover:

I’m here. I’m still in your arms. I’m safe.

But then Lycaon broke the kiss, breath trembling, hesitation flickering in his eyes.
“I—I don’t think we should go any further,” he murmured, voice low and torn. “Not after what just happened. I almost…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

Wise reached up, cupping Lycaon’s cheek again, fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I know you’re afraid. But right now… touch me. Feel that I’m here. Let yourself believe it.”

His voice softened further, becoming something vulnerable and honest.
“You don’t have to hold back for me, Lycaon. Let this bring you back to yourself. Let me bring you back.”

A quiet silence followed.
A hush that was occasionally interrupted by the sound of their breathing.

Then, without a word, Lycaon slipped one arm beneath Wise’s knees and the other around his back, lifting him with the utmost care.

Wise let out a soft breath of surprise, but he didn’t resist.
Instead, he curled into Lycaon’s arms with quiet ease, almost like a cat settling into warmth.
Content. Comforted. Safe.

And just like that, he let himself be gently carried to the nearby bed without another word.

Moments later, they reached the edge of the bed.
Lycaon then laid him down with the kind of tenderness that made Wise’s heart stutter, and immediately hovering over him, eyes searching—
Watching for even the faintest flicker of hesitation.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low and steady, though still laced with concern. “Is this really okay?”

Wise looked up at him,
his eyes filled with love, tenderness, and quiet adoration.

A gaze that was only meant for Lycaon.

Wise then slid his arms around his neck again and leaned up to press a warm and brief kiss to Lycaon's lips.
“Let my touch...,” he whispered, “Let the feel of my skin remind you that I’m staying. That if we wake up tomorrow, I’ll still be here. That I’m not going anywhere.”

And that was all it took.

The restraint in Lycaon broke—
Not into something rough or desperate, but into need...
A need to feel. To hold. To connect.

He lowered himself until his lips found Wise’s again, kissing him deeply.
And this time, he didn’t hold back.

His hands moved along Wise’s sides, mapping familiar ground like it was the first time all over again—
Anchoring himself with every inch, every sigh, every heartbeat beneath his palm.

Wise gasped softly into the kiss, and Lycaon drank in the sound like it was sacred.
While they were deeply kissing each other, the scent of Wise—
The smell of faint coffee, old paper, dark hazelnuts, and something purely Wise rushed through Lycaon’s lungs.
It was a scent that seeped into every single cell of his and settled deep in his chest like a quiet ache he never wanted to let go of.

He buried his fingers in Wise’s hair, breathing and tasting him in like he could imprint this moment into his very soul.

Their hands moved everywhere—
Searching, unfastening, and tugging fabric away between kisses that left them breathless.

There was desperation between them.
A need to stay connected through touch.
A need to ground each other, not by lust but by the presence of their bodies and minds.
And a need that even made a breath’s distance of skin feel unbearable.

Like that, layer by layer, clothes fell away.
Shirts were tossed aside, fingers fumbling with buttons and fabric in between rushed kisses and soft gasps—
Moving like two people who had nearly lost each other, and now couldn’t bear to be away from each other for even a second.

Eventually, Wise lay beneath Lycaon—flushed, bare, breath unsteady.
Lycaon himself, on the other hand, was still half-dressed, his hands braced on either side of Wise’s waist.
And while he was hovering above the beautiful human being, his crimson eye devoured every inch of exposed skin beneath him.

Wise let out a breathless laugh, lips curling into a playful pout.
“Unfair… I’m the only one completely naked.”

Lycaon didn’t answer at first.
Instead, his gaze softened, trailing slowly over Wise with reverence, as if seeing him for the first time.
Then, he leaned in, lowering himself until their foreheads nearly touched, his breath mingling with Wise’s. 

“I… I want to take my time today,” he murmured, fingers brushing from Wise’s cheek to his shoulder, then down his side—like a sculptor learning something beloved by touch alone.
“To really take you in. To touch and caress every part of you. But if you don’t want to—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Wise reached up and gently pressed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him.
Then, with eyes that were full of warmth and love, he whispered,
“Take your time. Belle said there won't be any updates about how I can get to Waifei Peninsula until the day after tomorrow... So, I’m all yours. I’ll still be here—today and tomorrow.”

Lycaon closed his eyes for a moment, like he was locking those words away in the safest part of his chest.

And then, slowly, he began to move again—
His hands gliding over Wise’s skin with quiet reverence, rediscovering every inch.
Everywhere his fingers traced...
Everywhere from the collarbone to the rise and fall of his chest, and lower still, his mouth soon followed—
Pressing warm, lingering kisses to the path just touched.

Each touch left Wise trembling from the sheer weight they seemed to carry.
Every kiss on bare skin felt like a vow.
Every caress, a wordless promise etched into him with lips and hands alike.

Wise lay back, breath hitching, his fingers curling against the sheets as Lycaon’s lips continued moving over him—
Grazing. Kissing. Nibbling.
And in the process, leaving faint red marks blooming across his skin like flowers in spring.

It wasn’t just passion, it was need.
A need to confirm that Wise was real, warm, and still breathing.

Soft sighs escaped Wise’s lips, sometimes breaking into gasps, his legs loosely wrapping around Lycaon’s waist, and holding him close.
His eyes shimmered—
Not just from sensation, but from something deeper:

A raw mixture of awe and realisation.

Just moments ago, he had been ready to throw himself into unnecessary danger, convinced it was the only path forward.
But now, here he was...
bathed in love so profound it made his chest ache.

God... how could he have ever thought, even for a second, that this was something he could leave behind?

Lycaon’s mouth, which had drifted down to explore, now returned—
Slowly kissing his way back up Wise’s body.
He reached his throat, brushing the soft skin beneath his jaw, then gently nibbled the spot.

Then, one hand came up to rest at the side of Wise’s neck, his thumb caressing reverently over the faded bite mark near the back of his neck.
“I will always choose you,” Lycaon murmured against his skin, voice thick with emotion. “I can’t imagine myself with anyone else. You’re everything to me.”

A quiet, involuntary moan slipped from Wise’s lips—
Half from the contact, half from the weight of those words.

Eventually, he tilted his head to the side, offering more of his neck, and whispered back,
“I’ll always choose you, too. No matter what... I’ll always come back to you.”

For a moment, they simply breathed together.
Their chests were rising and falling in the same rhythm, the bond between them drawn tighter with every shared breath and eye contact.

But then…
Wise noticed Lycaon’s hands—
Noticed them hovering near his sides.
Still. Hesitant. Unmoving.

The flicker of doubt was still there, running quietly through the Thiren’s veins.

With a soft nudge to Lycaon’s chest, Wise shifted their position, was now sitting up, and straddling him with quiet intent.
His legs folded on either side of his lover’s lap as he looked down with a faint and knowing smile.
He then leaned forward, pressing a playful and featherlight kiss to Lycaon’s snout, as he gently took Lycaon’s unsure hands and guided them to rest against his waist.

“Your touch is still hesitant, my dear Ly,” Wise murmured.

Lycaon swallowed hard, his ears flicked, and he lowered his head until it came to rest against Wise’s shoulder.

When he finally managed to find his voice again, it was low and full of wonder.
“Sometimes, I still can’t believe I’m allowed to touch someone so sacred…”

In response, a soft, breathy laugh escaped Wise.
He then tilted his head, nuzzling Lycaon’s temple, before pulling back just enough to cup his lover's face in both hands, thumbs brushing lovingly over his cheeks.

“You treat me like some kind of deity,” he said, gently teasing the older man.

Lycaon blinked at him, confused by the suggestion, as if it needed no explanation why he was treating Wise so preciously.
“You are such a lovely being, my dear… How could I not?”

Wise stared at him, heart pounding—
Thudding from the sheer weight of what Lycaon saw in him and from how deeply he wanted to mirror that love back.

“Ly…” he breathed, leaning forward until their noses nearly touched. “As much as you want to treasure me, to show me your devotion… know that I feel the same.”

He then kissed him again—
A touch so soft, reverent, and full of promise.

“Touch me as much as you need. Feel me as much as you want. I’m not afraid of you… So don’t be afraid of yourself.”

Then another kiss.
This time to Lycaon’s cheek, where the fur slowly warmed beneath Wise’s lips—
The heat rising like a quiet confession as his fluffy ears gave the faintest twitch.

“I don’t want to be your deity,” Wise whispered.
“I want to be your partner. Your equal. Someone who can reassure you… just like you always do for me.”

Lycaon’s eyes widened slightly at Wise’s words, the soft and radiant confession settling warm in his heart like the first light of sunrise.
He blinked once, twice—
Doing so as if trying to ground himself in the reality before him.

Wise’s flushed cheeks.
His parted lips, swollen from endless kisses.
The tender blemishes blooming across his neck and collarbone—

His marks. His trail. His work.

A shudder ran through Lycaon—
Part awe, and part disbelief.

“Forgive me in advance,” he murmured, voice breathless and full of affection. “Tonight’s going to take a toll on you… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop easily.”

Wise smiled softly, eyes half-lidded, breath steady.
“It’s okay,” he reassured him. “If touching me until we both fall asleep exhausted—too exhausted to even worry about tomorrow—then so be it. I’ll happily accept it.”

That was all Lycaon needed.

He lowered his head once more, gently sinking his teeth into Wise’s neck.
Not to hurt, but to claim, to feel, to fully be in this moment.

His mouth slowly trailed lower, lips brushing over collarbone and chest in open-mouthed kisses, each one lingering—
burning themselves into his skin and into his very soul.
His hands moved with purpose now, roaming freely over ribs, down his sides, and across his hips.

Every curve rediscovered, memorised, and worshiped.

He wanted to know Wise fully. Completely. Entirely.
Every delicate spot. Every soft place. Every breathless sound he could draw out of him.
Lycaon's touch wasn’t rushed, wasn't driven by dominance or lust—
It was motivated by a hunger for closeness, a deep desire to dissolve every inch of distance between them.

Wise let out a shaky breath, then another—
Each exhale turning into a soft moan as he began to move, hips slowly grinding against Lycaon’s lap.
Encouragement. Invitation. Answer.

Lycaon’s breath caught, strong and careful hands now sliding up the curve of Wise's back, before firmly settling at his waist.
In one fluid motion, he shifted them again, laying Wise down against the sheets—
The cool fabric a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered between them. 

Wise looked up at him with parted lips, eyes drowsy with desire.
But still clear, still focused on Lycaon.

Then he noticed the way Lycaon was about to lift his fingers to his mouth, clearly intending to coat them with saliva—
Until Wise gently stopped him with a soft murmur:
“There’s lube in the nightstand drawer.”

The Thiren immediately stopped his movements, froze up for half a second as he blinked down at him.

Wise couldn't help but giggle, cheeks flushed, eyes gleaming with mischief, when he saw the gears running in his lover's head.
He could already imagine the indecent images racing through his sweetheart’s mind.

“Do you want me to prep myself in front of you?” he teased.

Lycaon shut his eyes at the suggestion, a soft and shaky exhale slipping past his lips—
An exhale that was equally full of restraint and raw longing.

He then took another breath, slower this time, grounding himself before opening his eyes again and answering with a low voice:
“As tempting as that is... tonight, I need to feel you with every single one of my senses.”

He leaned over, reaching into the drawer beside the bed with steady hands, and pulling out the bottle of lube.
Moments later, his fingers were generously coated in the gel-like slick, a thin sheen beginning to slowly trail down his hand.

Then he turned back to Wise, eyes softening as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips, and asked.
“May I?”

Wise met his gaze, eyes loving and unwavering, as he gave him a small nod.

With that silent permission, Lycaon carefully eased a finger into Wise’s warmth—slowly, carefully, reverently.
His other hand settled lightly on Wise’s hip, thumb stroking calming circles into his skin.

The movement of his finger was gentle at first, exploring the softness within.
And each time Wise tensed, Lycaon would brush against that spot—the one that made him gasp, squirm softly, eyes fluttering half-shut—
An attempt to coax his body to yield, to welcome the motion rather than resist it.

While his hands remained focused on preparing his young lover, Lycaon’s mouth didn’t stay idle either—
Leaving kisses across Wise’s stomach, trailing them like whispers along his hips, and pausing at his inner thighs.
There, he pressed featherlight kisses into the sensitive skin, occasionally grazing it with the barest hint of teeth to leave behind marks that were unmistakably not made by a human.

When Lycaon finally decided to slide in a second finger, Wise's back arched slightly, his breath stuttering as the stretch deepened.
Noticing the response, the Thiren paused for a moment, pressing a tender kiss to Wise’s hip in silent reassurance before continuing.

His movements remained slow and fluid, alternating between gentle scissoring and purposeful curls into that sweet, sensitive place within.
And every time when he would press into it directly, no longer just grazing that spot, Wise moaned—
A trembling and unguarded sound slipping from his lips, followed by a soft whimper as his hips rolled forward, instinctively chasing the sensation.

Lycaon’s ears twitched at the sound, his pupils dilating each time Wise would let out another gasped—
trying to speak, to form words, only for them to dissolve into breathy whines whenever Lycaon slowed his movements, easing back into gentle stretches.
A gesture that kept Wise effectively suspended between pleasure and preparation.

“You’re so responsive,” Lycaon murmured against his skin, voice thick with awe. “Every time I touch you… it’s like your body’s telling me you’re truly here, in my arms.”

Wise let out a breathless laugh, trembling under the care.
“It's because I am,” he whispered, fingers digging deeper into the sheets. “I want you to feel it—that I’m right here with you. Every inch, every sound I make… all of me is present.”

Lycaon didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze deepened, eyes heavy with longing and a quiet, burning emotion.
Passion. Devotion. Adoration.

Then, wordlessly, he added a third finger.

Wise gasped, a sharp and helpless sound slipping free before he could catch it, as the stretch blossomed into something fuller, deeper.
The angle in which the fingers were moving started to shift, and this time Lycaon wasn’t merely exploring, he was deliberately hitting it—
Finding that sensitive place inside Wise with near-perfect precision, returning again and again, and coaxing pleasure out of it like a melody only he knew how to play.

His free hand slid lower, resting on Wise’s thigh, thumb moving in slow and tender circles—
Grounding. Comforting. Cherishing.

The contrast between the gentle caress on his thigh and the rising wave inside made Wise tremble even harder.
And he couldn't help but unravel under Lycaon's touch, soft moans escaping from his lips, body arching slightly as he slowly neared the edge.

“L-Ly,” Wise managed between ragged breaths, “I’m—close. I don’t—”

Lycaon’s eyes shone with reverence and desire as he took in Wise’s flushed face and heaving chest.
“I want to see you cum on my fingers,” he whispered huskily. “I want to feel your body shudder and drink in every moment of your pleasure.”

He then resumed his relentless assault, fingers pumping and curling in just the right way, stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves that had Wise seeing stars.
His other hand still traced idle circles on Wise's quivering thigh, the feather-light touches sending jolts of electricity through his already over-sensitive body.

Wise could feel the pressure gradually intensifying, coiling tighter and tighter in his core.
"Oh god, oh god," he gasped, his hips bucking up to meet Lycaon's probing fingers as he was close. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!"

With a final, deliberate press against his prostate, Lycaon sent Wise over the edge.
He cried out loud, back arching off the bed as waves of intense pleasure crashed over him, his cock pulsing and jerking, painting stripes of pearly release across his stomach.

Lycaon watched it all with undivided attention, drinking in every tremor—
Every shudder. Every sweet gasp and moan that fell from Wise's lips.
"Look at you," he breathed in awe. "So beautiful like this, trembling and undone from my touch."

Wise just lay there, chest still rising and falling in short breaths as the afterglow of release left his limbs feel boneless.
He kept blinking up at the ceiling, trying to steady himself.
The rhythm of his breathing was his only anchor for the moment.

Then, he felt Lycaon shift beside him.

When Wise glanced down, he saw Lycaon slowly removing the last pieces of clothing, slow and careful—
Like he didn’t want to overwhelm either of them.

Once completely bare, Lycaon looked down at Wise with a hesitation that spoke volumes.
As if he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch him.
As if the weight of his own longing threatened to shatter him.
Afraid that sinking any deeper into this moment might make Wise vanish like a fleeting illusion...
fragile and almost too precious to be real.

Wise said nothing.
He simply reached out, his movement charged with a quiet desire to close the space between them.

Lycaon’s breath hitched as he moved closer, their hands eventually meeting.
And Wise instantly took hold of them, lifting each to his lips and pressing tender kisses to every knuckle.
He then guided Lycaon’s hands upward, gently placing them on his own cheeks, cradling his face as if to anchor them both in certainty.

When Wise finally found his voice again, he whispered, the words soft and full of reassurance:
“I’m still here. Keep going. Keep holding on to me.”

The older man's fingers twitched lightly against his face, and then—slowly—Wise guided those same hands downward, dragging them over his chest, his ribs, his waist.
The motion wasn’t rushed; it was an invitation.
And every place Lycaon touched, Wise let him linger, let him relearn and remember his presence, his lover was feeling between his hands.

When they reached the lower part of his belly, Lycaon’s hands began to tremble again—
That same old awe, that fear of breaking something too precious, returning instantly.

Wise gave his hands a gentle and reassuring squeeze.
“I want this,” he said softly, meeting Lycaon’s eyes. “I want you to know I’m here. Here with you.”

Lycaon exhaled shakily, the trembling slowly fading from his fingers as he finally surrendered to the truth before him.
Without rushing and without force, he moved his hands further down his body before letting them settle at Wise’s thighs—
No longer shaking, but still just as careful.

Lycaon then reached for the bottle of lube once more, and as he popped the cap open, his ears twitched—
The quiet click somehow sounding louder than it had just moments ago.
Next, he coated his length generously, taking a moment to stroke himself and ensure he was fully hard and slick, before taking another deep breath to calm himself.

Settling between Wise's legs, he then carefully grabbed onto his knees, pulling him closer until the tip of his cock nudged against Wise’s entrance.
They remained in that position for a while before the Thiren looked up, his eyes searching Wise's face for any hint of hesitation or trace of doubt.
Making sure Wis was still choosing this. Still choosing to stay. Still choosing him.

And what he found in place of a sign to stop was a gaze full of calm and unwavering love—
A gaze that melted away the last fragments of uncertainty in Lycaon’s heart, even as it pounded heavier in his chest, echoing the deep yearning he held for the man beneath him.

With unhurried care, Lycaon guided himself forward, easing into Wise’s welcoming body—
savoring each heartbeat, each breath, and each little moan, as the heat closed around him.

It was a slow, intimate joining, a union of bodies and souls.

Wise’s hands gripped the sheets beside him, twisting into the fabric as he bit the inside of his cheek—
Trying to steady his breathing, to keep himself anchored against the wave of sensation threatening to overwhelm him...
A flood of feelings that rose so high, it nearly drowned him.

It wasn’t pain, not quite.
It was the overwhelming intensity of being filled again by someone who held him like he was the only place they’d ever belong.

A soft, breathy sound escaped him—
Somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, as inch after inch, Lycaon pressed into him.

And when his lover was finally fully sheathed inside of him—
Body pressed close but without any further movements, Wise looked up at him, voice slightly trembling but sure when he spoke to him :
“I almost forgot… how intense it feels. Are you feeling me… as much as I feel you?”

Lycaon shifted his body, now hovering above him, staring into his eyes like he’d found the center of the world.
His breath caught as he gave a single, shaky nod, before leaning down to press a quick and tender kiss to Wise’s lips.

“I do,” he stuttered, his voice pausing and softening into something even more raw as he added, “I feel everything.”

For a moment, they simply breathed in unison—
Just like earlier, when their hearts had started syncing without the need for words.

The stillness wasn’t tense.
It was calm.
It was reverence—
And sacred, like neither of them dared disturb the quiet magic between them.

But Wise, always the one to meet silence with love, lifted his legs and gently wrapped them around Lycaon’s waist, locking him close.
His arms slid around Lycaon’s neck, drawing him down until there was no distance left between them.

“It’s okay,” he whispered near his ear. “You can move.”

At Wise’s whispered permission, a quiet breath slipped from Lycaon, as though he’d been holding it for far too long.

Then, at a leisurely pace, he began to move.
His hips rolled in gentle, steady circles, each thrust measured and controlled—
slow and deliberate, as though each motion was its own act of trust.

His hands braced on either side of Wise’s body, fingers digging into the sheets, and anchoring him not just in position, but in the very moment.
He stayed close, pressed near enough to taste his lover, his mouth trailing along Wise’s neck and chest, licking away the forming sheen of sweat with slow reverence.
As he savoured the salt and warmth on his tongue, he would pause now and then to nibble at unmarked skin, leaving behind blooming red marks that whispered I’m here—
Proof of his presence on Wise, proof that this moment was real and would remain real even if morning came and made them doubt it had ever happened.

Their eyes locked, unspoken words passing between them.
It was a quiet conversation unfolding in the silence that made it clear that there was no rush, and no need for frantic passion.
Urgency had no place in this moment; only touch and closeness mattered.

They weren’t just making love, expressing their connection in the most primal way possible—
They were cherishing each other and remembering what it meant not just to love...
But to stay. To return. To actively choose what they shared.

And Wise...
He gave in completely, surrendering to every slow push and deep, filling stretch—
Gave in to every sensation his body felt beneath the weight of Lycaon’s warmth and adoring gaze.

“It’s so slow… it makes me feel everything, every twitch, every pulse…” Wise whispered, breath hitching as Lycaon shifted just slightly inside him, grazing that sweet spot again.
“Gods, Ly... You always make me feel so good. Like I’m here. Like nothing else matters but you. Nothing but us.”

Lycaon’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his expression almost pained with emotion—
Overflowing with feelings he was desperate to convey, with a need so intense to feel his lover’s presence that even his fluffy ears began to twitch, silently begging Wise to keep talking and to keep whispering that what they shared was real.

It was a plea Wise felt deep in his bones—

A request he couldn't deny from his wolfish lover.
A silent cry he answered in the only way he knew:
By holding on tighter, whispering truths between quiet gasps, grounding them both in the undeniable now.

After a while, Wise’s voice grew unsteady as pleasure slowly built in the deepest parts of his body, tremors dancing through his limbs like waves of lightning just beneath the skin.
“I’m here with you, I'll stay and I'll—”

But as he tried to coax out another reassurance of his presence, he got cut off—
His sentence dissolving into a strangled moan as Lycaon shifted just right, the slow and deliberate thrust pressing deep against that spot that made Wise’s whole body shiver in overwhelmed bliss.

"L-Ly!", was all Wise managed to get out, writhing and whimpering with every thrust that brought him closer to the edge.

Lycaon’s breath hitched, a broken whisper of Wise’s name escaping his throat as he slowed his rhythm slightly—
The pace becoming even more unhurried, measured, and fully present.
A quiet defiance against the hunger threatening to take over.

And for a moment, Wise could hardly bear it.

The slow build-up, the heat curling low in his stomach, again and again just brushing the edge of climax. It made his whole body ache, screaming to flip them over and to finally take what he craved.
But instead, he held on—
Arms wrapped around Lycaon’s shoulders, legs tightening around his waist, as if clinging to him could calm the storm, just as the rhythm was grounding Lycaon.

While Wise fought against the urge to take control of the rhythm, to set the pace and to chase release, Lycaon was savoring every second of it—
Not teasing. Not withholding. But memorising.
Letting his senses truly absorb Wise’s warmth, his pulse, the sound of every breath, and every shiver he could draw from that wanting body.

Wise bit down a whimper, every nerve alight as Lycaon eventually slowed to a complete stop.
The ache of being denied release spilled from his lips in a soft, needy whine—
But it vanished the moment Lycaon kissed him again.
Gently. Tenderly. Loving.

His mouth then ghosted over Wise’s cheeks, his eyelids, his temple, and every other body part right in front of his mouth.
Each kiss was a vow, an anchor, a wordless promise to stay connected.
Each kiss told the young man how much the Thiren above him craved his presence—
That he wouldn't let this night end so soon.

Wise exhaled shakily, his head turning to the side as he tried to calm his racing heart and simmering arousal.
Lycaon gave him a moment, continuing to plant soothing kisses along his jawline and neck, hands gently drawing small circles on his chest as if excusing himself for being so needy for Wise's touch and warmth—
His desire to prolong their lovemaking for as long as possible.

Once Wise’s breathing had steadied and his trembling had quieted just enough, Lycaon began to move again.
His thrusts were even slower and deeper than before, each one a deliberate caress, every motion savoring the heat of Wise’s body wrapped around him—
Couldn’t help but relish the way their bodies fit together so perfectly.

This dance of pleasure went on for a long time.

With every new cycle, every rising wave, Lycaon would bring Wise to the brink of cumming—
Slowing down once again whenever he could feel his younger lover nearing his climax: Body tensing, breath quickening with quiet moans, and legs wrapping even tighter around Lycaon's waist, seeking more friction in hopes of finally spilling all over himself.
But the Thiren would always come to a full stop, giving Wise time to catch his breath, waiting for the wave of pleasure to ebb down completely before beginning a new round of this torturous marathon, refusing to let this end in a fast sprint.

It took everything in Wise to not beg, to not rush Lycaon, to keep surrendering to the rhythm of it.
Letting himself be undone and rebuilt, over and over again—
Let himself feel the love in every near-rise.

Wise had long lost his sense of time. Minutes. Hours...
It no longer mattered—
All that mattered and remained was the heat of Lycaon's body.

Then, suddenly, the older man shifted their position, his arms wrapping securely around Wise’s waist as he carefully lifted him—
Still buried deep inside the whimpering man, as he guided him upright, and into his lap.
As Wise settled into Lycaon’s lap, the length slid even deeper inside him, the new position drawing a fresh whimper from the sudden fullness.

But before the sound could fully turn into a cry, Lycaon captured his mouth in a searing kiss, arms tightly wrapped around him and pressing their bodies together—
chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat,  trembling with how deeply he needed this closeness.

Wise shuddered as the new angle sent waves of pleasure through him, forcing him to break the kiss with a shaky breath.
He leaned back slightly—
Cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes filled with that familiar warmth reserved only for his wolfish lover.

He smiled, exhausted and breathless, then whispered through the haze of sensation:
“I… I need a moment. If we keep going… I’ll— Please, I want to cum together.”

As if that small distance between them was too much to bear, Lycaon immediately reached forward, hands seeking out Wise’s.
The moment their fingers met, he gently intertwined them, drawing their joined hands to rest between their chests—
Between breaths and heartbeats.

And in the hush that followed, they simply looked at each other—
Eyes locked in a quiet conversation, revealing the depth of feeling etched into their very souls.

After a while, Wise let out a soft, breathy laugh.
His laugh was barely more than an exhale, but enough to warm the space between them.

“For someone who wants to treat me like something precious,” he murmured with a teasing lilt, “you sure can be mean in bed.”

Lycaon’s ears twitched, his gaze shifting to the side as he dipped his head in a sheepish nod.
“I just… I want to stay like this as long as possible,” he said, voice low and honest. “Touching you. Feeling you. Holding you.”

Wise let out a small snort, a sound caught between amusement and a moan—
The slight motion made him extremely aware of how deep Lycaon was still inside him, sending a tremor through his body that left his legs weak and shaking.

“Th-that’s a lot to ask of me,” he eventually replied, half-laughing, half-whining. “You seem to forget the only sport I do is walking to the coffee shop two buildings down the street.”

He paused, still catching his breath, before adding with mock seriousness,
“You can’t expect me to have your stamina.”

That earned him a low, rumbling chuckle from Lycaon—
A sound that vibrated through their joined bodies, drawing another soft moan from Wise.

Lycaon leaned in again, guiding Wise’s hands to his lips.
As he pressed gentle kisses to each knuckle, slow and reverent, he whispered—
His voice soft and full of adoration:

“I guess I got carried away. I’m sorry, my love.”

Wise shook his head, still smiling through the flush in his cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, eyes soft and a little unfocused. “But I swear… if you keep building me up like that, I’ll end up crying.”

The words had barely left his mouth when he felt it—
A subtle, unmistakable twitch deep inside him.
A clear sign that a certain someone—and a very specific part of their lower body—was very interested in seeing that reaction

Wise’s eyes widened in disbelief, a sense of betrayal washing over him at the actions of his supposedly caring lover.

He looked down at Lycaon, jaw slack.
“I can’t believe that’s turning you on!” he gasped, mock scandal laced in every syllable. “What a bad wolf you are!”

Lycaon chuckled again, the sound deeper and more indulgent than before.

Eventually, he released  Wise’s hands and brought them up to cup the young man’s face, staring into Wise’s deep green eyes.
“Guilty as charged,” he murmured, then began placing soft, lingering kisses across Wise’s face.

He planted fleeting kisses on his lips, cheeks, nose, and even his eyelids—
Each kiss was unhurried, a love note written in touch.

Wise pouted half-heartedly, which only earned him another kiss to the cheek.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Lycaon said, his voice soft and mischievous now, a promise wrapped in warmth. “Let me make amends… by finally moving.”

And with that, he took hold of Wise’s waist again, guiding him up and down with a rhythm that was neither rough nor fast—
But sure and steady.

Although it was no longer painfully slow...
It still carried that same intention, that same presence.
It wasn’t about the end—
It was about the feeling, moment by moment.

Pleasure lit again, more consuming than before, and Wise cried out, his voice trembling.
His body arched instinctively, clutching tighter around Lycaon as a tear slid down his cheek—
The sensation simply too much to hold in breath alone.

Lycaon caught the tear instantly, kissing it away as gently as if it were made of glass.

Wise whimpered, almost brokenly, no longer sure if he was begging for more or pleading for it to stop.
“L—Ly...”

His body shuddered again, hips stuttering slightly as another quiet sob of pleasure slipped free—
It was overwhelming, yet never harsh.
It felt like too much due to his oversensitive body, yet it wasn't enough to tip him over the edge.

And Lycaon…
Lycaon watched him cry in pleasure like he was witnessing the most beautiful sunrise —
stunned, devoted, in awe.

Wise then felt another twitch inside him, and his gaze snapped up to Lycaon’s face—
Only to catch sight of something just behind him:
Lycaon’s tail was wagging like crazy, betraying him completely.

The sight, paired with that innocent face, made Wise’s jaw drop.

He frowned in disbelief, a whine escaping his lips as he looked at the Thiren accusingly, eyes still glassy from pleasure and closeness.
“You’re so mean for enjoying me cry—hngh,” he tried to complain, but his words turned into a moan as Lycaon deliberately thrust into the swollen gland inside him, effectively making him see stars.

Lycaon gave a lopsided grin, a little bit of guilt reflected in his eyes, but still—
He also didn’t deny the accusations, his voice sounding much less sorry than what his face was telling Wise:
“I can’t help but revel in how sweetly your body reacts to me. Every twitch... every sound you make… It’s proof that I’m here. That I’m with you. That you feel me.”

Wise shuddered, his whole body trembling under the weight of that honesty—
Of the way Lycaon had said it...

It wasn’t lust.
It was need.
It was presence.

A deep craving not for pleasure alone.
But for reassurance, for being seen, being felt, and fully known.

As the moments passed and pleasure built at a rapid pace, Wise felt something slowly and insistently pressing against his insides:
A growing pressure at the base of Lycaon's shaft, a familiar swelling that signaled the approach of his knot—
Something that rarely happened, even during their most intimate moments.

He felt Lycaon pause.

His movements became shallower, more hesitant—
Trying his best to hold back the part of him that still ached to claim, to lock Wise in place and keep him close.
Trying to fight against his instincts that were screaming at him to make sure his partner—his mate—would stay safe.

Wise's breath hitched as he felt Lycaon's movements become more unsure, the other man clearly torn between the urge to be fully inside him and the desire not to trap him.

"It's okay," Wise reassured him breathlessly, his own climax fast approaching.
"I want you to know I’m here. That I’m not going anywhere. So if it helps you to believe I'll stay for tonight, then do it. Lock me down for tonight."

Lycaon’s breath faltered, his thrust stuttering for a moment as something raw and vulnerable flickered across his expression.
He didn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to answer his beloved—
So he simply pressed his forehead to Wise’s and gave a single, quiet nod.

Then he moved again, continuing the rhythm of their shared breath and ragged moans.
Lycaon’s hands gripped Wise’s waist firmly, guiding him down with each upward thrust—
Relentless in the way he would always strike his prostate spot on.

Wise clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around Lycaon’s shoulders, legs trembling as they both caught the same stuttering breath—
Each holding onto the other as if even an inch of distance would mean losing a part of their soul.

Each inhale was shared.
Each exhale wove them tighter together.
Every moment was a testament to their yearning—
A longing that lived in absence and in closeness alike.

As they continued at this pace, Wise could feel the pleasure inside him rising, their rhythm building to an inevitable crescendo.
It was almost too much to bear, the intensity of the sensations overwhelming his senses.
“I’m... I’m going to cum,” he panted, voice strained as he fought to hold back. “Oh God, Lycaon, please...”

Lycaon’s response was a low growl of encouragement, a deep sound rumbling through his chest.
“Yes, my love,” he urged, voice rough with his own nearing release. “Let go. I’m right here with you. Let’s cum together.”

And with a final, powerful thrust, Lycaon sent Wise hurtling over the edge.
The smaller man cried out, back arching as pleasure exploded through him like fireworks—
His body finally having found the relief it had been silently begging for.

At the same time, he felt Lycaon's knot slip past his rim, locking them together in a union both physical and emotional, as he spilled inside him.

Wise's cries only grew louder as Lycaon reached between their sweat-slicked bodies, wrapping his fingers around Wise's length and stroking him in sync with the rhythm of his own climax—
continuing until Wise was left quivering, whining softly from oversensitivity, utterly spent as Lycaon coaxed every last drop of pleasure from him.

For a long, still moment, neither of them moved.

Time felt suspended, the world narrowed to the warmth of skin and the shared rhythm of their breath.
Both of them could feel the other's heartbeat against their chest.
Both their hearts were racing, yet still beating at a steady pace.
Calming. Consistent. Comforting.

And even as the aftermath trembled through their limbs, they held on—
Not just to each other, but to the quiet truth that had carried them here to this moment:
They were here. Together. In each other's arms.

Lycaon’s hand slowly moved through Wise’s gray hair, fingers tracing gentle patterns as he took in the blissed-out expression softening Wise’s features.
Wise, in return, let his head fall onto the Thiren’s shoulder, nuzzling deep into the fur, exhaustion tugging at his voice.
“I’m so tired… so exhausted.”

Seconds later, a tender kiss was pressed to the bite mark on the back of Wise’s neck—warm and apologetic.
“I’m sorry, my love.”

Wise tried to protest, to stop the apologies, but the only thing he could manage right now was a soft hum—
His strength and ability to speak fading away with every new breath.

Lycaon smiled endearingly against his skin, brushing a stray lock of hair away and whispering,
“You should sleep. I’ll take care of everything. Just relax and let me handle the rest.”

No argument came.

Wise’s eyelids slowly grew heavier, his eyes eventually closing as his body finally surrendered to the pull of dreamland.
And while both his body and heart were at ease, fully trusting his lover to care for him—
He was held safe in Lycaon’s arms, wrapped in an unspoken promise of love and care that would carry them through the night.

Slivers of morning light slipped through the shutters, painting the dark room in soft, golden hues.
The sun had risen gently, but even its quiet light felt bold as it stretched across the bed, brushing over tangled sheets and scattered clothing.

One particular beam landed on Wise’s face, warm and insistent. His brows furrowed at the unwelcome touch, his body still stubbornly clinging to sleep.
He let out a soft groan, his eyes trying their best to stay closed as his head turned away—
Searching for something—anything—to shield himself from the sun’s gentle prodding.

He wasn’t ready.
Not to wake. Not to think. Not to move.

His limbs were heavy with the kind of exhaustion that ran deep—
So deep it even ran right down to his bones.

It wasn't an ache, nor was it painful...
Just a hollow sort of tiredness that felt weightless in its own way.
The kind you feel after finally letting go of something that had clung too tightly for days.

So, he didn’t want to move.
He didn't want to leave the coziness of his bed.
He just wanted stillness...

And maybe another hour, wrapped in the warmth of something that felt safe.

But before a single coherent thought could rise, something soft brushed against his nose.
Not quite feathery, but still light.
Something that felt strangely dense despite its smooth, velvety texture.
Something that felt almost like...

Like fur—
Fur that tickled just enough to make his nose twitch once… then again... until—

"Achoo!"

...With a sharp inhale, he sneezed, disrupting the stillness of the morning.

The sudden sneeze caused Wise to tense instinctively, his body freezing.
And for a moment, he waited, half-expecting a groan or a shift from the source of that silky-smooth fur.

It almost felt as though the entire room held its breath with him, suspended in the silence that followed.

But nothing happened.
The quiet lingered.

Cautiously, his eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was a familiar mass of silvery-white fluff pressed against him.
Then he realised, it wasn't just pressing against him—
It was wrapped around him, surrounding him as if shielding him from the rest of the world.

A heavy and unmistakably fluffy arm was slung around his waist, anchoring him in place—
refusing to let him go anywhere but stay exactly where he was.

Even in sleep, Lycaon held him like he still wasn’t ready to let go.

Wise shifted slightly, his gaze drifting upward along the curve of a broad chest until he found himself face-to-face with the sleeping Thiren.
Lycaon’s brows were smooth now, the usual stern expression absent. His breathing was steady, with the faintest hint of a snore on each exhale.
Long lashes cast gentle shadows across his cheeks, and his lips were parted—
A rare vulnerability settling over his features, one Wise seldom witnessed on the older man's face.

He looked so peaceful—
So relaxed, so free of worry.
So deeply lost in sleep, as if happily dreaming the morning away.

And yet… he clung to Wise with a quiet desperation, even in slumber—
As though his unconscious body needed the closeness.
As if the slightest distance might unravel him all over again.

Wise’s heart ached at the sight.

Even now, in the quiet safety of dawn, Lycaon’s body betrayed what still lingered beneath the surface.
Some deep, instinctive part of him—still curled around the memory of the night before—shone through in the way he held Wise close.
An unconscious grip, possessive and protective, as if some part of him still feared letting go.

Wise slowly sank his fingers into the soft fur along Lycaon’s shoulder, careful not to wake him as he absentmindedly toyed with the softness, letting it slip and curl between his fingers.
Despite the ache still lingering in his chest, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet wave of endearment as he looked at his wolfish lover’s peaceful face.

He then began to slowly run his fingers through the thick and silken fluff, a gentle sense of comfort wrapped around him—
A comfort that felt like an invitation to sink even deeper into the warmth.
A silent call to surrender, to indulge...
To melt into the softness and stay there, just a little longer.

So he did.

With a small, contented hum, Wise tucked himself closer into the embrace, nuzzling against Lycaon’s chest with a quiet hum of contentment.
His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke to the one he loved.
“I promise I’ll always come back… to these warm arms… tomorrow and forever.”

The words slipped from him with both tenderness and weight.
Together, they were a vow shaped from the quiet places of the heart, spoken into the stillness like sunlight piercing through clouds after a storm—
Like a gentle beam breaking through the whirlwind of emotions, they'd weathered the day before.

But as they left his lips, a sigh followed—
A quiet exhale, heavy with thought... and just a hint of sorrow.

Because Lycaon had given him something permanent—
Something that spoke without words, a mark of his devotion pressed into the skin of Wise’s neck.
A scar he could trace with his fingers whenever doubt crept in.
A silent promise that no matter how far he went...
Lycaon would always choose him.
Would always wait for him.

Always.

And Wise…
He had nothing to give in return.
Nothing to offer that could stay with Lycaon when Wise wasn’t there.

No physical symbol to ease the ache when he left again for another proxy mission.
No safeguard for Lycaon to reach for in the dead of night.
No silent reminder that no matter what would happen...
Wise would always choose his wolfish lover, too.
Would always return to his side.

Always

He couldn’t help but feel a strong longing—
A deep, aching need to give something back.
To offer Lycaon a promise he could hold onto.
To make sure he’d never have to feel that fear again.
Never feel alone.

He pressed a gentle kiss to Lycaon’s chest, just above his heart, and whispered:
“I wish I could give you something, too… something to keep with you, so you’d never have to wonder.”

The words had barely left his lips before they began to echo in his mind.

"Keep."

Something to keep.
A symbol. A reminder. A vow—
Something that could stay with Lycaon, even when Wise couldn’t.

And then, it dawned on him:

"Rings."

His breath caught.
It wasn’t the first time he’d seen such symbols on others—
The subtle glint of gold or silver, worn soft with time and meaning.

But it was the first time he truly felt the weight of what they stood for.
Not just tradition or ritual—
But something deeper.
Something raw and sacred.

A ring wasn’t just a promise of love.
It was a vow to stay alive.
To return. To survive—
For the sake of someone waiting with open arms.

His eyes widened slightly at the weight of that thought.
"That’s what marriage means to me," he realised. "Not just love… but the act of coming back. Of never choosing recklessness if it means risking your forever with someone."

... With Lycaon.

The idea settled into his chest with a strange, reverent stillness. A quiet truth that made his eyes sting.
"That’s what I want to give him. A promise he can hold," he thought to himself, heart fluttering as if it might lift into the sky.

He looked at the man still breathing gently beside him, arms curled tightly around him, forehead now resting near his shoulder.
"One day," he thought, breathing in the scent of warmth and fur, "One day, I want to place a ring on his finger and let it say everything I haven’t been able to. That I choose you. That I’ll fight to come back. That no matter how far I go… I’ll always return."

He ran his fingers gently through Lycaon’s tousled hair, then leaned in to press the softest kiss to his snout.
“I’ll find a way,” he whispered. “To give you something to hold onto when I can’t be here… Something real. Something that says everything I can’t always put into words.”

As those words left him, barely more than a breath against Lycaon’s chest, he felt the man begin to stir.
A gentle shift. A low, familiar groan of waking life.

Lycaon’s eyes then fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, as a faint smile curled on his lips the moment they found Wise’s gaze.
Without hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Wise’s forehead.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmured, his voice rough and low from sleep.

And Wise...
Wise couldn’t hold it in anymore.

His breath hitched, and then the tears came—quiet and sudden—as they slipped down his cheeks.
He sobbed, not from pain or fear, but from the sheer weight of what he felt.
Of what he wanted. Of what he longed for with every part of himself.

“I–I want to love you forever,” he whispered, voice trembling beneath the flood of emotion. “I want to stay. I want to come back. Every time. Always.”

Lycaon’s expression softened instantly, concern flickering in his tired eyes as he gently pulled back to see him more clearly.
“Wise… are you okay?” he asked, brushing a thumb along the curve of his cheek. “Was yesterday too much? Did I hurt you, my love?”

Wise quickly shook his head, then buried his face in Lycaon’s chest with a fragile, broken laugh between his sobs.
“No… no, it’s not that. I— I’m not hurt. These… these are happy tears.”

And Lycaon, without asking for more, without needing to understand the reason, simply held him.
He embraced him with quiet certainty, like he’d known all along that this closeness was what Wise needed most.
With his chin resting atop familiar, soft hair, he traced slow and soothing circles along Wise’s back, grounding them both in the warmth between them.

And while they stayed in this embrace, Wise couldn’t stop his tears from falling.
Not even if he tried.

Because something inside him had finally… eased.
The ache, the confusion, the fog that had hung over him for days—it all gave way.
His searching had carried him through memories and doubt, through fear and longing and silence—
Until at last, he could finally see it.

The answer. The future he wanted.
And it was right here in front of him.

Wise smiled to himself, face still pressed against Lycaon’s chest, as his tears slowly ebbed like a tide retreating to sea—
Not because he had everything figured out,
Not because the world had suddenly become safer,

But because his heart had found clarity.
Because now he understood what he wanted.
What they both needed.

A symbol not just of love…

But of return.
Of survival.
Of forever.