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The light in the Lounge flickered once. The air, thick with the residue of Azul’s magic, still shimmered faintly—like the sea refusing to calm after a storm. Then the sound came. Not the crash of glass or the rush of water, but the sharp inhale of someone realizing something had gone wrong.
Jade’s hand caught Azul’s shoulder just as he fell, stilling the tremor in his body. The scent of ink and salt clung to him. For a moment, Azul almost looked peaceful. His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing shallow, lips pale in the dim light.
Floyd’s voice broke through, too loud, too sharp. “Hey—hey, Zully, c’mon. Don’t joke around like that.”
But Azul didn’t answer.
The Lounge went still. Even the waves outside the glass dome seemed to pause.
Jade’s voice was a whisper, careful, brittle. “Floyd.”
Floyd turned, the grin gone, replaced by something that didn’t fit on his face—something hollow. “He’s just tired, right? He’s fine. He’s gotta be fine.”
He wasn’t.
—
For two days, Octavinelle stayed closed. Rumors drifted through NRC like fog, but no one dared ask directly.
Jade spent most of that time at Azul’s office desk, not moving much, his gloved hands folded neatly in front of him. The ink stains on the floor hadn’t come out, no matter how hard he scrubbed.
Floyd didn’t come in.
“Are you eating?” Jade asked once, voice low.
Floyd didn’t answer. He was sitting on the couch, knees pulled to his chest, Azul’s jacket wrapped around him like it might give him warmth it never had.
“Floyd.”
“Stop talking like he’s not coming back.” The words came out small. Not angry—just scared.
Jade didn’t reply. He couldn’t.
—
Elsewhere, Jamil stood by the Mostro Lounge entrance, staring at the closed sign. The memory of Azul’s grin, sharp and smug, lingered in his mind—followed by the sight of that same grin faltering in exhaustion days ago.
He should’ve noticed. He’d seen the same strain before in himself, the way magic eats away at you when you push too far.
He clenched his fists. “Damn it.”
—
Riddle had visited once. He’d stood stiffly by the counter, hat in hand, guilt heavy in his throat. “He was difficult, yes,” he’d said quietly to Jade, “but he didn’t deserve—” He stopped himself. Words wouldn’t fix it. He left before Jade could answer.
—
Floyd began to avoid everyone. Classes, meals, the Lounge—it all felt too empty. Every time someone said Azul’s name, he flinched. Every time he saw the desk in Azul’s office, he turned the other way.
But at night, he’d sneak in, curling up under the desk, whispering halfhearted jokes into the silence. “Bet you’re laughin’ at me right now, huh, Zully? You always said I was too loud.”
No one answered.
—
Vil sent flowers. Not out of duty, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about how Azul had looked the last time he’d seen him—paler than usual, trembling just slightly when he thought no one noticed.
He’d noticed. He just hadn’t asked.
—
Jade kept working. Organizing records. Tending to customers once the Lounge reopened. He smiled the same way he always had, polite and distant.
But sometimes, his hand would hover over the empty chair behind the counter—the one that used to creak whenever Azul shifted in it—and he’d freeze.
The smile wouldn’t come back for hours after that.
—
The Lounge never felt the same. The music stayed softer. The twins’ laughter, once loud enough to fill the whole dorm, turned quiet.
One evening, Floyd leaned against the bar, watching the faint reflection of his brother in the mirror. “Jade,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Do you think he was scared?”
Jade looked up from the glass he was drying. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “I believe he was.”
Floyd’s hands curled into fists. “We were supposed to protect him.”
Jade didn’t correct him. Didn’t tell him that sometimes, even they couldn’t stop the tide.
The silence stretched. The sea outside pressed against the glass, endlessly moving, endlessly cold.
—
Azul’s chair stayed empty. His teacup remained untouched. And somewhere, in the quiet corners of Octavinelle, it still smelled faintly of ink and salt—like he’d just left, like he might walk back through the door any second now.
But he didn’t.
And they kept waiting anyway.