> Last he’d seen of him, they’d spent a long day together, doing the generic timewaste of dinner and a movie. It wasn’t a good enough movie that Rufioh thought he’d remember it in the future, so he’d paid more attention to the curve of that round face in the soft light. It had been a long time since he felt able to trust someone like this. He was remarkably comfortable here, though, and when they parted, he stole a kiss. He’d get another the next day if he wanted, he was sure.
> Last he’d seen of her, she was baking. She did a lot of it, so he hadn’t been concerned. He did his best to help her and made more of a mess than anything, but she didn’t seem mad about it. He’d bumped his forehead gently against hers and then tugged one of her braids with a flour pale hand before lad scampering away. He’d stolen a cupcake that he hadn’t known if he was allowed to eat, and his dimpled grin had been his only apology.
> Last he’d seen of him, the air was comfortably hot; his bare feet had never even touched down on the sunkissed sand before they crashed into each other. He was crushed in a hug and greeted with a smile that made his wings and his heart flutter alike. They stole moments together, and Rufioh had been frightened by how right it was. Because things that feel right almost always seem to turn out wrong for him. He looks forward to figuring out the endgame.
> A cupcake, a kiss, a moment.
> All threads tugging him forward, always pulling him higher. He was a much better version of himself than he had been once upon a time, he thought as he sat on the floor of his vacant village. He stumbled sometimes, certainly, but when it came down to it, up was the only direction he knew how to go!
> He ran his fingers along the edge of the tablet he’d been staring down at, trying to drown out the memories that tried to drag him down when he spent too long here alone in the quiet. He still hadn’t told her about this little rose gold thing, and it was important. It was... it could potentially change everything, but only for Rufioh. And if whatever was going on with Rufioh and him was something real and solid, he deserved to know as well.
> His thoughts nebulously encompass the three of them, in the end. Wondering how he could balance a life with two of them only half in it. Wondering about the logistics. Wondering which way is up.
> The shift would be dramatic to say the least; would they care enough to stay? If he chose not to, would it mean all that work had gone to waste? Would he seem ungrateful, ugly even?
> When the Wooden Village goes, the sound is audible. Rufioh’s fingers are hovering over a message he is crafting for her. It’s always been easier for him to initiate important conversations this way and continue them face to face later. She’s never chastised him for it, and he loves and appreciates her for that.
> But he hears this sound, and goes out to look around. The last time he’d heard something that frightening and loud, it was Rohais blasting magic around all willynilly looking for attention. He doesn’t have enough time to process what he’s seeing; his reality peeling away under the weight of the void. He only gets the deep and crushingly terrifying feeling that something is wrong. His fingers scramble at the tablet he’d clutched to his chest while he trembles and prays not to hear anything like that again.
> And he doesn’t.
> He doesn’t hear anything again.
