Theora wanted to melt.

To liquify into a puddle, to get out of Dema’s terrifyingly gentle gaze. To find a way to vanish from the searing and undivided attention of hers, but the only issue was that if she did that, that warm and soft hand would vanish from her cheek, and who knew when Dema would get back in the mood to touch her again.

Oh, how had things turned out like this?

Theora was supposed to be the strongest person in the world.

She was the one who defied the rules of reality, who was unreasonable, and the one who would never lose. It was a fact, not confidence, and as such, unquestionable.

And yet, here she barely stood, overwhelmed to the point of feeling dizzy, holding on by a thread as Dema somehow managed to tower over her despite being a head smaller. And Dema was completely justified in doing so, because she was right. Theora really had gone and done it now, ignoring that precious rule and instead—

“Hey!” Dema snapped softly, and peeled Theora’s hand away from clenching the edge of the counter. Theora felt her heart pound in a storm. “Doing it again, huh!” Dema smiled, and raised her eyebrows just a bit. “You know, if you’re gonna get lost in thoughts, you gotta stop at a good point, not at a bad one!”

“Stop at a good one?” Theora breathed in the lowest possible voice.

“Yeah! Like, one in a million chance? Do the math, little rabbit. How much time does that leave us?”

Dema pressed down on Theora’s hand, and Theora couldn’t help but press back in reflex. She felt so hot, and close to bursting into a thousand stars. “Sure, I wanna live forever, but that’s just a selfish wish. If it ain’t gonna work out, bummer! But, I still got to cherish that whole life I lived until then.” Dema again brushed over Theora’s face, and interlocked their fingers with her other hand. “My life with you!”

And then the dam broke.

Theora jerked as she tried to hold back a sob, squeezing Dema’s hand, but then, the second sob came up and she couldn’t hold it. With a whimper, she sniffed the snot through her nose and couldn’t keep her mouth closed as her face melted into a grimace.

She ugly cried. Couldn’t hold herself up, so she sank down, caught by Dema and falling into her embrace. Dema’s arms pressed against her back, getting the two as close as possible, not a hair breadth between them. “There, there,” Dema lilted, and brushed through Theora’s hair, holding her steady against the quivers of her body.

“You okay back there?” Iso’s words echoed from the living room.

“Just leave them,” Bell answered, “They’re having a moment.”

Theora just couldn’t stop crying. It was all coming out now, in a torrent that she’d held back for oh, so long.

A life with Dema. That’s exactly what she was having right now, wasn’t it?

If you’re gonna get lost in thoughts, you gotta stop at a good point, not at a bad one.

How much time does that leave us?

“But I can’t stop at the good point of having a lot of time, because I don’t want to ever lose you at all,” Theora whined, head buried in Dema’s shoulder. “I’m selfish too.”

Dema giggled and pressed Theora’s head against herself. “Not gonna! You hear me, not gonna happen! I’m really good at being immortal. You think the System’s gonna hit the lottery one day? All I gotta do is hit the lottery first!”

“That makes no sense,” Theora murmured, but she wrapped her arms around Dema’s small figure because it somehow still managed to make her feel better.

To cherish each day they were granted, without worrying about the eternity looming thereafter? Oh, what a concept. Theora wasn’t sure if she could ever be strong enough to do that, but maybe it was something she could work towards.

So much sobbing. And, it just kept going and going, and it wouldn’t stop.

She twitched a few more times, sniffling and swallowing, feeling almost bad for wiping all her discharge into Dema’s cloak, but it wasn’t like Dema showed any intent of letting her go, and the warmth of her body felt good, and somehow, all the pressure was gone and Theora felt so much lighter, the dense fog in her head clearing out as if evaporating into the darkness around them, like she’d been swimming and drowning in an ocean all alone for so long, and finally found a thing to hold on to that could keep her afloat — and that thing was strong as a rock and soft as another bunny and smelled of salt and coal and everything became fuzzy as this rare feeling of safety swirled around in Theora’s empty shell as if she could be whole for once, even for just a minute.

Whole again, for just a minute.

She breathed in an entire lungful of air.

Ah, she was dizzy. By now, she wasn’t being held up and steady by Dema anymore, but simply resting against her in a solemn kind of peace.

Theora’s head was empty for once, just feeling beat after beat issue from Dema’s heart, and feeling her breathe in and out right next to her, feeling the gentle strokes of Dema’s fingers graze over her back. And it just went on like this, and on, and on.

And then, at some point — without Theora even knowing how much time had passed — Dema slowly wrapped her out of the embrace. They’d both sunk to the ground somehow, and Theora looked up.

“Still gotta eat!” Dema said, beaming down. “You gotta eat well too! Can’t sit here all night.”

Theora nodded weakly.

Yes, following Dema’s suggestions seemed like a good idea. Dema wanted her to eat? Good idea. She’d eat. Yes.

“Oh, and,” Dema added, “So that’s a no for Bell? Don’t want her around because she’s gonna try to kill me? That’s fine, if so! If you’re not too much into having her around. Just wanna clear it up!”

Wiping the snot and tears out of her face, Theora shook her head. “Not about that. If you want to have Bell around, we can have Bell around.”

Dema smiled. “Alright! Yeah, I wanna! She’s cute.”

“You’re impossible…” Theora murmured.

With Dema’s help, Theora managed to pull herself back up on her unsteady legs, to finish up brewing the tea for everyone. Dema ruffled through Theora’s hair and then, with an earnest smile, went back into the kitchen to tell Bell she’d been accepted.

Eventually, Theora carried the cups into the living room, putting them on the ground. She barely registered the others, still feeling wobbly. Bell and Iso were talking about something, empty bowls in front of them. When had they even gone into the kitchen and fetched them? Theora hadn’t noticed at all. Meanwhile, Dema had sat down in a corner with one of the books she’d found on the table in the living room.

The cups were of a nice set of ornate porcelain. Now that she was back in a lit room, Theora could take a proper look to appreciate them, even though her vision was still a little bleary. Azure, with red adornments hand-drawn at the edges in thin, almost-conforming lines resembling ocean currents, and wide rims of wavy flowery dimpled shapes. They were all filled with tea made from the peel of oranges Theora had found in the kitchen. Gently steaming, crystal-clear reddish liquid with a golden shimmer, calm and radiating a soft scent of citrus fruit.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Damn!” Dema yelled out. “That smells so good! Also, didn’t know they had sets like this here. That seems like overkill for a small flat like that.”

“They’re Bell’s!” Iso answered. “She’s a fan of pretty things.”

“Oh, is she!” Dema exclaimed, turning her grinning face to Bell — who was sitting there on the ground in mute and absolute horror. Staring down at the cups, clenching her fists into her wavy semi-transparent dress. “What!” Dema let out upon seeing that. “What’s wrong! Little rabbit not allowed to use them?”

Bell gulped, and shook her head. “No, it’s just… There’s…” She pointed at the cups in the centre between all of them. Her hands were shaking softly. “There’s four cups.”

“Of course there’s four!” Dema said. “Why not! There’s four of us!”

Bell’s glance darted over to Theora, seemingly afraid. “Are you going to poison me? Please, I’ve always been open towards you, so at least tell me beforehand.”

“What!” Iso blurted out. “No way! Where does that come from! She wouldn’t do that. Right, Theora?”

Theora meanwhile just started blushing, and put her face in her hands, eyes still puffy.

Dema shifted her body around towards Theora, her coat and shins gliding over the wooden planks with a soft shuffling noise. “What’s going on?”

“The Skill. You used your Skill to make these, right?” Bell inquired with a low voice. “You couldn’t have made orange tea like that without it.”

“’Course she used her Skill! Always does, what of it!” Dema sounded confused.

“Well,” Bell went on, but sounding much less sure as the words continued to escape her. “As Iso mentioned earlier, the Skill says, ‘Your tea’s taste is magically enhanced by the affection you feel for its recipient.’”

She looked up and around, but when she was only met by further confused looks from Dema and Iso, she continued, “I tried to kill her crush and lifelong companion, twice. Look, I get it, Theora is a good person, but clearly, she is acting nice for my sake. If her affection for the recipient is negative, won’t that make the tea poisonous?”

Dema scratched her head and put her chin in her hand, falling into thought for a moment. After a while, she said, “It probably would!” in an aha-moment voice. “Yeah, that’s right! Little rabbit tryna poison her! Your scheme’s unveiled, little schemer!”

By now, Dema was just messing with Theora, having her typical mischievous grin on her face, and meanwhile, Theora wanted to disappear from the planet, never to be seen again. Or at least, fall asleep, forever.

“I… made two for myself,” Theora lied. “You don’t have to drink anything.”

“No, I wanna see this!” Dema butted in. She jumped up into a stand with a single motion, landing on her feet, but still shaking slightly the way her movement had become ever since recovering from her long-term injuries. She plodded over the wooden boards with soft thumps, picked up one of the cups, and placed it directly in front of Bell. “There we go,” she said.

Bell just stared up at her, shaking ever so softly.

“Nothing bad is going to happen, my mom wouldn’t do that,” Iso added and gave a reassuring nod.

“Yeah!” Dema agreed. “Also, I know a healer in the guard, so I’m gonna carry you right to them if it knocks you out!”

A little bit of life left Bell’s eyes right then.

“So it has come to this,” she intoned, calmly, accepting her fate. She stared at the cup for a painfully long time. A myriad of small motions and thoughts went through her expression — all of them moving hushed and mellowed behind her usual blanket of stone-faced defiance. And then, with a sudden but controlled and elegant motion, she picked up the cup, and drank.

Everyone stared at her, awaiting her judgement. Everyone except Theora, that is, who put her head onto her knees, protecting herself with her arms wrapped around.

This was a total disaster.

She should have thought this through properly. She’d gotten so used to making tea for everyone that the possibility of this happening should have occurred to her. The fact that Iso had even mentioned her Skill earlier should have been a gigantic red flag. It had been Theora’s last chance to get out of this unscathed.

That’s right — she’d accepted to join a party, and now all of herself was laid bare before the others. She’s been too self-absorbed in the privacy granted to her by the destruction she’d inflicted on her own sheet, and forgotten how brutal it was to be seen and understood.

Dema would never let her hear the end of this.

This may as well be Theora’s last day on earth.

In fact, wasn’t this far too cruel? Theora felt like it was. She’d barely calmed down from meeting Isobel, barely managed to get over her breakdown just a few seconds ago, and she was still so sleepy, and now this.

And with that, Bell suddenly jumped up, leaving the half-drunk cup on the ground, and stormed out of the room. The door was clawed open in a squelching sound, presumably by her tentacle hair, and swung shut behind her as she disappeared into the city.

“Bell!” Iso shouted after, and scrambled to get up. Then, she clack-clack-clacked out of the door to follow her companion. “Bell, wait! Are you okay?”

Dema was stunned and stared at the door wide-eyed, as if she had played absolutely no role in this.

“Oh, to be young!” she proclaimed, picked up her cup, and enjoyed her tea. “Damn, gotta say, this tastes amazing.” With a grin, she looked at Theora. “Always thought you were just really good at it!”

“I’m actually very bad at it,” Theora admitted. “It’s all saved by the Skill’s effect.”

After all, such Skills simply added magical effects, they didn’t actually improve one’s capabilities at basic crafts.

Dema took another sip, and acted as if she was relishing in it. “So, you like me! I already knew because of the flowers, but now I also know because of the tea! Can’t wait for you to tell me out loud.”

“That’s going to be very hard,” Theora murmured.

“I got time!” Dema said. “Whenever you’re ready!”

Theora shook her head gently, pouting. “Don’t act like I’m the only one who’s taking her time.”

“What! What do you mean!” Dema shouted, and her expression actually looked somewhat startled. “I’m holding back for your sake! So you won’t turn into dust.”

“I understand that,” Theora said, and was thankful for it. “But.”

“But?”

“I told you a long time ago, and it still took until today.”

“Took a long time until what?” Dema asked, and by now, she was boggling, and her voice was getting a little shaky.

“You don’t remember? Back when you woke up from being sick, and you tapped me. Tapped me on the shoulder. Remember?” Theora’s voice was dry and speaking was hard, but she did her best to continue. “I told you that you can touch me. I gave permission. And yet, outside of hugs, you never did, until today.” Theora swallowed. “Forty six years.”

For a moment, Dema was speechless, and Theora could tell by the twitching of her legs that Dema was probably considering running to her notes to check. Eventually, Dema swallowed too, and said, “Why, that was after I scolded you! You only said it after I scolded you.”

“If I didn’t mean it, I would have rescinded,” Theora huffed ever so slightly.

Dema blinked, mouth half-open, unable to mount a defence. With that, she was found guilty. Found guilty of the crime of not touching Theora in 46 years, excluding hugs.

She was saved by Iso finally coming back a short while later, clicking softly over the wooden floor. “It’s okay!” she said. “Bell’s just processing.”

“Processing what!” Dema rasped, trying to find her countenance.

Iso shrugged. “Best tea she ever had,” Iso said. “And now she’s crying. Sulked something about how ‘this doesn’t change anything’ and that she ‘can’t understand how this is possible.’”

“Oh!” Dema said, turning to Theora. “Oh, my!”

Theora pulled her legs close to her chest and put her head down on them, curling into a pill in the best Iso-imitation she could muster. “I can’t help it, alright,” she whimpered.

Bell had been assigned an impossible quest, a quest that she had no good reason to doubt, and now she was stuck in a situation that she had no way of navigating safely. Obviously, Theora disagreed with her. She disagreed with Bell’s stubbornness of trusting the System, and disagreed with her conclusions, and she would always stand in Bell’s way like an immovable rock, forever being her foil, not granting her a finger’s breadth of room to achieve her goals, for the rest of her life.

But… Bell was always so straightforward. At every step of the way, she’s been nothing but honest. If Theora was a little bit more like Bell, she’d be able to tell Dema all about how she felt. And, she’d be able to tell Dema every cruel secret she was carrying.

“She came to us, she sabotaged her own Main Quest by sharing it, and she travelled with Isobel and was there for her during the entire time when we weren’t,” Theora tried her best to say, despite her throat hurting from having talked too much that day already. “Doesn’t that make you want to hug her?” Arms wrapped around her legs, she clenched herself together. “Of course the tea would taste good. Of course it would.”

Dema smiled. “Yeah!” she yelled out. “Of course it would!”