Large cement stone blocks serve as an extraordinarily clunky railing along the edge of the restricted zone. I can tell just by looking that its texture is coarse and unpleasant, something that must not bother the blonde-haired girl sitting atop it.

“You look dangerously contemplative for someone who just woke up,” I comment, running my fingertips along the stone beneath her. It's unpleasant, as expected.

“As it happens, the cruel realities of fate have done an excellent job of waking me up this morning,” she replies, though her tonality isn't nearly as wistful as her wording might suggest.

I turn my back to the wall, leaning against it and resting my head on its top. As expected, it's horribly uncomfortable, but I can't be bothered to find a better position right now.

“Are these cruel realities related to me?” I ask, lolling my head toward her.

Her gaze finally shifts from the sea to my face, an action that makes me feel profoundly embarrassed for seemingly no reason at all. “This particular one is, at least. Wanna guess what it is?”

I don't need to puzzle things through too much; we're here today for a reason, after all.

A bit of clamor reaches my ears, but I don't lift my head to look at it yet, wanting to keep my focus on the person I'm with.

“If I must guess, I imagine it's the fact that I leave for my mission today.”

The fingers of her right hand play with a lock of my hair; the sensation rather distracting as I try to listen to her response.

“In part, yes. You running off into danger is definitely the main component of my distress; though it's made so much worse by the hope I now have to contend with right before your departure.”

That's reasonable. I did choose a pretty unpleasant time to suddenly gain awareness of things. “Isn't it better to hope now than not at all?”

She flicks the hair she's been playing with into my face, causing me to sputter and raise my head despite the hairs returning where they go by themselves.

“Your idealism, as always, is as attractive as it is frustrating. Try telling me that again after eight years of living like I have.”

I do my best to absorb what she's saying, but find myself stuck on one part in particular. “Attractive, you said?”

Her gaze withers my newfound excitement, but it was her fault, so I don't know why she's the one who’s upset.

“Catch me,” she declares, sliding herself backward off the stone wall like a far too confident Humpty.

My arms reach out on instinct, handedly catching the girl I was too anxious to touch just six minutes ago. The anxiousness returns, but I'm too shocked by how light she feels to really ruminate on that.

“...You're eating properly, right?” I ask, my buffoonery on full display.

“Why would you think that's the question someone wants to hear the moment someone picks them up?”

“I could have called you heavy instead,” I counter.

Her eyes narrow, scrunching her brow in a way I'm quickly growing fond of. “If the girl with superhuman strength called me heavy, I would dive into the ocean and never resurface.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Valid.”

We both go silent, attempting to maintain the facade of seriousness despite our silly conversation. The old soldiers finally make their appearance at this point, marching out from the hangar with matching bags and uniforms. I suppose that means my time here is running short.

“...I feel like enough has happened by now that I don't need to say what I'm thinking,” Sydney murmurs, shifting in my arms without looking at me.

“I'd still like you to.”

I hear and feel her huff, her indignation motivating her to finally look up at me. “You’re unfair as always, Brooke. I’m the one who smothered their feelings for eight years and still you—”

“I love you, Sydney.”

Her expression freezes up, the aggravated face she had at the start growing softer and redder by the moment.

“Ghk— L-love? Aren't you skipping a few steps there?”

“Probably. Does that bother you?” I ask, feeling weirdly confident now that she's on her back foot. “I might be wrong since I've never really dealt with this sort of thing before, but I know I'm much more than just attracted to you at this point.”

Her cheeks have shifted to a deep scarlet by now, something she tries to hide by using my hair as a pitch-black curtain. Unfortunately, it's a curtain I can manipulate at will.

“It doesn't bother me, but you being able to say shit like that without also getting embarrassed definitely does.”

I part her feeble attempt to shield herself, pulling my hair away from her. “It's definitely because I'm holding you like this.”

“Then put me down.”

“Don't count on it.”

Never before have I been so happy to have someone scowl at me. It makes me feel a little greedy, to be honest. Her expression turns wary, clued into my thoughts by whatever look I've got on right now.

“Cut that out, don't look at me like that,” she demands, though her giggle leaves me unconvinced.

I feel myself grinning, the wants swirling around in my head distinctly mine and not on behalf of anyone else.

It's thrilling.

“I'm not going to kiss you,” she insists, the breath mint I can smell on her breath obviously intended for some other purpose.

“Why's that?”

“You're about to leave on a life-threatening mission, if we kiss now, it's basically a guarantee you won't make it back. I won't let you go die just for my character development,” she explains.

I smile at her excuse, raising my arms so she's closer to me. “But since you're aware of it, wouldn't not kissing me have the same effect?”

“Ah, um,” she starts, looking around before quietly murmuring: “...There are people watching…?”

Adorable.

My tendrils writhe, coursing around us like a protective bubble that blocks our upper halves from view. It's pretty obvious what's going on, but that's a problem for a later version of us.

I lean toward her, but both of her palms cover my mouth, keeping me away.

She looks… anxious.

“Ooo hast?” I ask, a hint of my fear making it through my muffled words.

“No—I just—are you certain about this? About us? We can still go back to what we were, I won't be upset,” she manages, her grip on my face going slack. “I just don't think I could handle it if this dream of mine came true, only for you to realize you don't actually want me and that this was all some physiological response to nearly dying.”

Her words sting, but I know it's not that she doesn't trust me. We've both been through a lot, it's hard to take things at face value.

A pair of tentacles pull her hands from my face, squeezing them lightly. “You might not be upset, but returning to the time when I didn't have these wonderful new feelings sounds like a nightmare to me. Nothing's gonna change that.”

“...It’s okay? I’m allowed to have this?”

“Of course you are,” I say, softly. “I like you back, after all.”

It’s like all the concern holding her body rigid melts away, rendering her a living block of gelatin within my arms. “What an incredible set of words you just said,” she mumbles, gathering herself.

“If I say them again, will you let me kiss you this time?”

She looks like she wants to tell me no out of indignancy, but instead, she acquiesces, hesitantly lifting her chin and shutting her eyes.

Oh dear, now what?

I was fine doing it earlier because the flow of things was good, but I’m now exceptionally lost as to what my next step should be. Do I just…?

“Kiss her already!”

The cogs in my head stop turning, my useless overthinking abandoned in favor of just doing what feels right.

So I kiss her.

Our lips touch and it’s like I’ve grasped an electric fence, a jolt throughout my entire body that leaves me tingly and numb. It’s not like I’ve never kissed before either, but I think knowing the difference between this and that makes the experience all that more exhilarating.

When we do part a moment or two later, I nearly go in for a second time, resisting the urge after seeing poor Sydney looking a tad overwhelmed.

“You okay to stand on your own?” I ask, gradually unwinding the orb surrounding us. I could dissipate it entirely, but she seems like she could use both the fresh air and the cover a little longer.

“Ah, mmm, yeah. In just a sec.”

I hear a cheer that sounds suspiciously like a man in armor, though I decide not to give it a second thought. My current occupation is more important, after all.

“We’re—hah—good, you can put me down.” She declares, sounding amusingly short of breath. Her feet touch the ground with only minor wobbling, but she does hold my arm to brace herself. “This weapon must be sealed away at all costs, it is far too dangerous.”

A snort escapes my nose, her description properly catching me off guard. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Then you are a tyrant and a scoundrel.”

She rests her forehead on my collar, its smooth, cool material helping her recover and dissipate the warmth on her face. I’m sure my own face is in a similar state, but the pleasant sea breeze will be plenty enough for mine.

“I’m coming back,” I say, running my fingers down the back of her hair. “No karma or character development nonsense will have any effect on that.”

“Uuughhh” She groans, not lifting her head. “It’s like you’re reading off a script of things people say before they run off and die somewhere. Is this on purpose?”

Rather than dig any deeper of a hole, I figure it’s better to just shut my mouth instead of answering. It feels like she’s trying to find the words to say anyway.

I look out across the tarmac as I wait, its surface far busier than when I arrived this morning. Duff and his old pals are talking enthusiastically in a group, slapping each other's backs and shouting loud enough that I can almost hear them from here. Catherine’s missing, though she is the director. I’m sure there’s more than enough for her to be doing right now.

Sydney lifts her head, but still looks over my shoulder instead of at me. “Everything in my soul is screaming that I shouldn’t, but I also feel like if I don’t say it back before you leave, then I’ll regret it just as much.”

Her head turns, and our eyes meet once again, an anxious smile on her lips.

“I love you too, Brooke. Make sure to come back to me.”