Eiren didn't show up for three days.
For Lina, the days dragged like years. Every morning she slipped out to Crescent Lake, hoping he'd be there—silent, strange, distant, but real. She checked the hallways at school, the rooftop he was fond of staring from, even the edge of the woods behind her uncle's house where she once caught a glimpse of him watching the sky.
Nothing.
Her heart felt like it had been shelved in a dark, cold place.
On the fourth night, when the moon hung low like a silver tear in the sky, Lina returned to the lake one more time. She told herself she was being ridiculous, that he probably didn't even like her, that she should just forget him.
But then she heard it:
A soft ripple.
Like someone stepping lightly on the water's edge.
Lina's breath caught.
He appeared exactly as he did the first time—quiet, almost glowing under the moon, as if the world refused to cast shadows on him.
"Eiren," she whispered, afraid he might vanish if she spoke too loudly.
He didn't move toward her.
He didn't smile.
He stood as still as the trees behind them, his expression unreadable.
"You shouldn't be here tonight," he murmured.
"Is that all you're going to say?" Emotion cracked through her voice. "You disappear for days. You avoid me at school. You act like I don't exist. Then you show up and tell me where I shouldn't be?"
Eiren looked away, jaw tightening.
"I was trying to fix things," he said quietly. "You shouldn't have seen me in the first place."
"Too late for that," Lina said. "I did see you. And now you're here again. Why?"
He didn't answer.
He just stepped closer—one slow step—and the air between them warmed.
"I'm trying to stay away," he finally admitted, voice low and trembling at the edges, "but every time I do, something in your world pulls me back. Something… or someone."
Her heart thudded painfully.
"Eiren…" she breathed.
He lifted his head, meeting her eyes fully for the first time in days.
"You complicate everything," he whispered, pain threading through the words.
"Then let me help you simplify it," she said, echoing her own courage louder than she felt.
For a long moment, he only stared at her—like he was memorizing something he knew he shouldn't.
Then he stepped close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, even through the cold wind. He didn't touch her. But he leaned in, forehead nearly brushing hers.
"I'm falling for you, Lina."
Barely a whisper.
Barely allowed.
And when he said it, something deep in the air shifted—like the world itself held its breath.
She didn't kiss him.
He didn't touch her.
But for the first time, she felt the truth:
His heart was just as trapped as hers.