summary: What's it like to be a significant other of a varsity basketball player? Scratch that, what's it like being the significant other of 'Malipo' Kinich, a nonchalant and incredibly talented player who always keeps you on your toes with his unpredictable moves on and off the court?
genre: basketball bf x supportive s/o, massive fluff, kinich being a romantic even during on court, clingy kinich :<<, reassurances, them being in love, public relationship but still low-key.
notes: I was invited to watch a basketball game by my friends and that led me to make a kinich fic bc of that lol
FREE TICKETS?! I'M IN!
You don't have to worry about ordering tickets online for games because you always have a front row seat, given the special treatment from your partner, Kinich. Even though you sometimes insisted you would pay for the ticket with your own money, he would give you the stink eye and tell you to save your money for something else while gesturing to keep your wallet closed. If he were being generous enough, he'd let you invite your companions to join you at the games as well, but they had to promise that they would minimize any distractions and focus on the game.
"But—" "No, buts. Save your money or use it to buy food and drinks at the game instead," Kinich would say with a frown, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. There's no winning against the man's frugality when it comes to spending money on unnecessary things. So, as a good significant other, you would just have to accept his decision and enjoy the game together without any extra expenses. "Fine, fine," you pouted, looking away as you begrudgingly agreed to Kinich's terms. Kinich hums in content and pinches your cheek playfully, replacing his frown with a smile. "That's my girl." Then he went in to kiss you on the lips before he excused himself to resume his training regimen for the upcoming competition, leaving you flustered. That damn Kinich!
HIS JERSEY IS ALSO MINE TO WEAR, HEHE.
Due to high demand, Kinich had personally requested that the coach make another jersey for you to wear during his games. Of course, he didn't want to tell the truth; he just wanted to show you off as his girlfriend. But deep down, you knew he was just being sweet and thoughtful. It was cute to see you wearing the jersey with his name on it and how it perfectly complemented your figure. He was practically clinging to you like a proud boyfriend, kissing your neck and whispering in your ear how good you looked in his jersey. Every time he had a competition, he made sure you were there in the stands, cheering him on and proudly wearing his jersey. The sight of you in his jersey always brought a smirk to his face, knowing that you were there supporting him. It brought out the nastiest competitiveness in him, pushing him to perform even better just to make you proud.
"You look beautiful, [Y/N]. It fits you well," he whispered, eyeing you with adoration. His hands are toying with your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Thank you, baby," you replied with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It feels like I'm betrothed to you when I wear this jersey," you added playfully, making him chuckle and hold you tighter. "You want to?" He tilted his head with a slight grin, his eyes slowly squinting when he noticed the flustered look on your face. So cute seeing his significant other get flustered over a playful suggestion. "Flustered, baby?" He teased, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a warm embrace. "Don't worry, we'll make that happen soon," he whispered, making your heart flutter with affection. You buried your head into his neck, shyly nodding in agreement.
A SACRED ROUTINE BEFORE GAME TIME!
Before Kinich could hit the field, he always made sure to spend a few moments with you, his good luck charm, to calm his nerves and boost his confidence. In an empty corner of the locker room, he would hold your hand tightly, resting his head against yours as you rubbed circles around your back. Seeing his focused yet gentle expression, you knew that no matter what happened on the field, you would always be there to support him. You know that your boyfriend is confident in his abilities, but having this special moment with you before each game helps him stay grounded and focused. Your presence and support mean everything to him, and he carries that with him onto the field.
"You can do this, baby." You whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead, and wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. As he took a deep breath and nodded, planting a kiss on your arm, you could see the determination in his eyes. He needed to win this game not just for himself or the school, but for you as well. He slowly removed himself from your embrace, then he turned to you with a sincere smile. "I'll make you proud," he said confidently before he cupped your cheek and gave you a reassuring squeeze. He leaned in and whispered, "I love you," before kissing you gently on the lips. The two of you pulled away and rested your foreheads together, sharing a moment of quiet understanding and support. With a final nod, he sat up and offered you his hand to help you up. "Go sit in the stands and cheer me on. I'll see you there, baby." He guided your back towards the door with a reassuring squeeze before he met your eyes one last time, his determination shining through. He shyly gave you a flying kiss before catching up with his teammates.
SHOOT THAT BALL, KINICH!
The cheer squad may be the loudest, but you know that your voice will be the one he hears above all others. You waved your banner enthusiastically when Kinich had captured the ball from his opponent's hands and swiftly made his way towards the goal, the crowd erupting in cheers as he scored a point for the team. You screamed in excitement, jumping up and down with the other fans as you watched Kinich run across the court with his finger pointing at you, silently indicating that he dedicated his goal to you. You caught a glimpse of his determined smirk as he ran his hand across his sweaty forehead, silently mouthing, "This one's for you."
Before he was given the chance to shoot the ball to gain an extra point, he dribbled the ball first and then gave it a light kiss before shooting it towards the hoop. His first thought before shooting the ball was of you, the inspiration behind his every move on the court. He will make it matter, he will make it count, and he will make sure you know just how much you mean to him both on and off the court. As the ball swished through the net, he turned to you, kissed his two fingers, and pointed towards you in the stands, then caught up with his teammates to defend their lead.
EXTRAS!
Whenever you appeared on the screen during the breaktime, Kinich would always smile at your adorable appearance, watching your face light up in excitement, and waving the banner you made for him. "She's adorable," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief at how lucky he was to have you supporting him.
Whenever he has an interview, he doesn't forget to mention you as his biggest supporter and source of motivation. He doesn't care about the fame or recognition, as long as he knows you're proud of him. "I'd like to thank my partner for always believing in me," he would say, glancing in your direction with a grateful smile, basking in the love and support you provide. You are his rock, his inspiration, and his greatest treasure.
Selfies before the game are a must! Kinich is wrapping his hand around your waist while you both smile at the camera. Sometimes, if he's bold enough, he would kiss your cheek in the photo, or maybe even on the lips. "Kinich! Be serious!" you would playfully scold, smacking his arm lightly as he chuckles in response. "What? We look good together," he would reply with a mischievous grin, making you scoff in amusement.
Kinich luvr, oh Kinich luvr, please give us your greatest Kinich fanfic recommendations 🙏
HII!! omg i'm sorry for just replying now, been super busy with dealing with the typhoon and everything!!
OK !! i will be tagging and including links to my fave kinich fanfic recommendations and their authors!!
i'll start with @aurumalatus!! my fave kinich works of them are the following:
pixelprincess!au wherein kinich is a knight that like protects you aka the princess!! GOD i love it so much !!
💬 7 🔁 69 ❤️ 724 · 𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 · 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗛
An orphan who was famously able to pass guard training within a single day. He qui
this one is a childhood friends to lovers modern!au with kinich! it's cute and wholesome and slight angst but i love it!!
pairing. kinich x fem!reader
word count. 3.4k
genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. su
now...ladies and gentlemen..drum roll please!!! TURNFIRE !!! this is my absolute fave of all time!! HAS ME SCREAMING CRYING while working please...even the author knows that LOL. i highly recommend this because it is sooo beautifully written and it truly invokes your thoughts and emotions. you feel as if you are truly "you" in the fic with kinich. it's also childhood friends to lovers but based in like teyvat, not modern au. LOTS of angst, i swear.
💬 14 🔁 103 ❤️ 690 · 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 · pairing. kinich x fem!reader
genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and
okay now onto the next author which will be @miraeofficial!! i fell in love with their work especially this one specific kinich fic:
MY CRUSH HAS A DOUBLE LIFE?! - this is literally if kinich was spiderman PLUS !! a whole love triangle including sethos as well so that is insane !!! HAD ME SQUEALING AND SCREAMING !! while at work ofc....hehe so i highly recommend it as well!!
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
you can just click on the links then it will route you to the masterlists of the fanfics!! please do check them out and give the authors some love too <33 hehe
summary: everyone is talking about the 'green ghost' nowadays. whether it's from the news, online articles, or even gossip! he saved countless lives with a hidden mask yet his intentions are yet to be discovered. it made [y/n] intrigued who is behind the mask that saved her one time, unaware it was the one she had been pining for.
pairing: kinich. . . genshin impact (the reader is included)
genre: superhero x civilian, spiderverse inspo, love triangle (w/ sethos), jealousy, one-sided to a full rivalry, desperate pining from three accounts, oblivious from [y/n] and kinich, angst, fluff, supernatural modern au!, school-life, death(?), potential villain?, and etc. . .
notes: another small series!! I'm excited to write this fic because it has been plaguing my mind ever since hshsh. i really hope everyone enjoys the series with expectations and content. taglist are officially open, so please say it in the comments. <3
Months had passed since the unforgettable, spine-chilling incident.
Where once stood a city known for its calm skyline and vibrant streets, now lingered the shadow of that night—the night when an unimaginable horror rose from within their midst. The night when peace was torn apart like paper in a storm, leaving behind nothing but ash, rubble, and scars too deep for time to erase.
It was a tragedy no one could forget, even if they wanted to.
Reports were released.
Headlines screamed bold numbers on their front pages, recounting the staggering losses like war tallies. One hundred sixty-three lives lost. More than three hundred injured, many still trapped in the slow crawl of recovery, both physically and mentally.
Entire neighborhoods were flattened; blocks of homes are now reduced to hollowed-out skeletons of steel and ash. Landmarks that had once been points of pride for the city—schools, community centers, entire historic districts—lay in ruins, some beyond repair.
Construction sites dotted the landscape in every direction, towering cranes swinging over craters that had once been bustling streets. The city had become a patchwork of scaffolding and debris, dust clouds still clinging to the air as bulldozers cleared what little remained.
The government scrambled to respond, but their words fell like stones into a raging sea.
Their promises of safety, security, and swift rebuilding rang hollow against the grief and fury of the people. Every press conference was met with protests just outside its doors. Candlelight vigils blurred into angry rallies as citizens demanded answers and accountability.
Yet no answers ever came.
The identity of the monster that ravaged their home remained a mystery.
Investigators, scientists, and even military analysts pored over the footage of the attack, but all they had were shaky videos and incomplete witness reports. The creature had left no body, no trace. Nothing but blurred images and destroyed streets.
Still, theories blossomed like wildfire.
Some believed it was a failed government experiment—an escaped bioweapon unleashed by accident and then covered up.
Others whispered of the abyss—a myth spun into something more tangible after seeing its grotesque power firsthand.
And then there were those who believed it wasn’t a monster at all but a cursed human, transformed by unknown forces, doomed to fall beneath their own violent nature.
The debates spiraled endlessly online.
But amid it all, there was one figure the world unanimously turned their praise to.
The Green Ghost.
The vigilante once again saved the city from certain doom; without fear, without hesitation.
His name was plastered across every screen and news ticker for weeks afterward.
"Green Ghost’s Heroism Turns The Tide!"
"Mysterious Savior Rescues City Once More."
Documentaries were made, analyzing every pixelated movement from that night. Reporters begged for interviews no one could give. Murals were painted across the cracked streets, honoring his mask as a symbol of courage.
They called him a hero.
A guardian angel.
The protector of the people.
But not a soul knew the truth behind the mask.
Not a single one saw the weight that still hung heavy over his shoulders—the suffocating, inescapable grief he carried beneath the suit.
Because Kinich didn’t want their praise. He didn’t want the medals they offered in absentia or the way children now wore knock-off masks of his likeness. He didn’t want the parades or the banners or the thank-you letters pouring into his anonymous drop boxes.
Because none of it could change what really happened.
None of it could erase the image burned into his mind—of the friend he couldn’t save.
The friend who dissolved before his very eyes.
The boy whose laugh once filled basketball courts and rooftops alike.
Now, not even his name was allowed to be spoken in the same breath as the incident.
Because somewhere in the weeks following the catastrophe, behind closed doors and beneath layers of government protocols, Sethos's truth was buried.
The decision wasn’t made by the people who knew him best. It wasn’t born from compassion or grief. It was strategy.
Among those who held the authority to make such choices was Candace, an official with long ties to the city’s crisis response and one of the few entrusted with the full, unvarnished truth of that night. She had been there, seated in the high councils, where officials and enforcers whispered in urgent, clipped tones about the identity of the monster and the potential fallout it would unleash.
To the public, the beast remained a nameless horror, an anomaly that vanished with the wind.
But in that room, his name was known.
Candace knew it.
She had known the boy tangentially, through years of connection with his grandfather, Bamoun, a respected figure among the city’s elders, known for his wisdom and sharpness even in his later years.
It was Bamoun who pushed back first when the decision was laid on the table.
He hadn’t needed cameras or press releases to make his case. His grief alone had been enough to fill the room, every line on his weathered face drawn tight with sorrow and quiet rage. He had wanted to speak the truth—not just for his grandson, but for every soul that would one day look upon Sethos’s memory.
His grandson wasn’t a monster.
He was a victim.
A victim of the abyss, of circumstance, of forces too cruel and ancient for anyone to fight off alone.
Bamoun had wanted to tell the world exactly that—to let them see beyond the bloodshed and ruin. To show them that the boy who once shot hoops under streetlights and came home with scraped knees wasn’t the villain their nightmares painted him to be.
But the city didn’t want truth.
Not in its rawest, messiest form.
The officials saw only risk. Chaos. A public already drowning in grief is now handed a face to blame.
They saw the fires that would follow, the riots that would spark, and the fear that would fester deeper than anything they could control. They weighed the damage against the hope of order, and the answer had been clear to them:
Silence.
They convinced Candace. Slowly, methodically. She had resisted at first—there was no denying it—but even her sense of duty couldn’t outmatch the towering weight of what such knowledge could unleash.
They convinced her it was mercy.
That it was better this way.
Better to let the people believe in an anonymous monster than force them to face the far crueler truth that the horror had been born from their own streets. That the creature had been a boy who’d walked among them. Smiled with them. Played with them.
Better to spare the families from knowing their children’s friend had turned into a walking apocalypse.
Better to save the city from devouring itself in guilt and fear.
So the records were sealed.
The reports were scrubbed clean.
Sethos’s name was erased from every file related to the incident, replaced by vague, nameless terminology that kept his memory locked in a vault few would ever open.
And Bamoun?
He stayed quiet.
Not out of agreement.
Not out of acceptance.
But because, in the end, what was left for him to fight for?
He was an old man, sitting in a city that no longer recognized the boy he had raised. He watched the world move on with its sanitized narrative, watched the murals of the Green Ghost rise across the streets, and watched strangers light candles at vigils that spoke of heroes but never of the boy they’d lost.
And in his heart, he grieved.
Quietly.
Privately.
Because he knew the truth, even if the city refused to carry it.
His grandson wasn’t a monster.
He never had been.
But now, no one would ever know.
Amid the chaos that followed the rooftop’s collapse, when the smoke still lingered heavy in the air and the city remained gripped by sirens and panic, she had already been slipping away.
Her body had simply given out.
Too much.
Too much fear. Too much grief. Too many wounds pressing down all at once.
It wasn’t dramatic. There had been no scream, no sudden fall.
She had collapsed into herself, trembling and breathless, her sobs slowly giving way to empty silence as her body began to shut down from the sheer weight of it all.
Her skin had been pale, streaked with tears and specks of dirt, bruises blooming across her arms and legs from her desperate escape through rubble and flame. Blood still ran from a shallow cut on her forehead where falling debris had struck her earlier, now drying against her temple in thin, dark streaks.
Her breaths had grown shallow.
Weak.
And then, just as her body slumped against the cracked rooftop, a shadow moved toward her.
Kinich—still masked in the battered guise of the Green Ghost—had been there in an instant.
There had been no time for hesitation.
With shaking hands still dusted with soot and battle scars, he had scooped her up from the broken ground, cradling her limp body against him. Her weight was light in his arms, and her body was cold with exhaustion.
Without another glance toward the shattered rooftop or the fading echoes of what had transpired there, he launched into the night once more.
He moved swiftly, the city rushing past in blurred streaks of green and black.
Down ruined streets, through smoke-choked alleys, swinging past shattered windows and bent steel beams.
He carried her through the heart of devastation, his heart hammering in his chest with every second that passed.
When the hospital’s bright lights finally appeared in the distance, he didn’t hesitate.
He landed hard outside the emergency entrance, his legs nearly buckling under both the weight of her and the overwhelming exhaustion crushing down on him.
The emergency response teams were already swarming the area, tending to wounded civilians and directing incoming stretchers. The second they spotted him, they rushed to meet him.
He didn’t say a word.
He simply handed her over, careful with her fragile, unconscious form, before watching her disappear into the blur of medics and nurses.
Inside, everything moved in rapid, frantic motion.
The emergency room lights were harsh, sterile white against the dark smudges of ash on her skin. Nurses worked quickly to stabilize her, their gloved hands securing an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose as they wheeled her down the hall. Monitors beeped in frantic rhythms, tracking her weak pulse.
One of the emergency responders dialed her mother’s number without delay.
And somewhere across the city, her mother’s world came crashing down the moment she picked up that call.
She had arrived at the hospital in a rush, her face streaked with tears, the panic in her every step making her stumble through the crowded hallways. The moment her eyes landed on her daughter—unconscious, hooked to wires, and wrapped in white bandages as she was rushed toward another room—her legs nearly gave out beneath her.
She broke down at the sight.
The grief was immediate, raw, and impossible to contain.
She cried as she tried to follow the medical team, her cries muffled by the crowd and drowned out by the noise of the busy ward.
Doctors had to gently restrain her, ushering her to wait as they closed the doors to tend to her daughter’s wounds in privacy.
And somewhere nearby, tucked in the corner of that cold hospital waiting room, Kinich sat.
The disguise was gone now; he shed it in an alleyway on his way inside, leaving behind the mask, the gauntlets, and the scorched suit that had made him unrecognizable.
Now, he sat alone, a hood pulled low over his face, his hands still trembling faintly in his lap.
He hadn’t left.
Not after everything.
He had watched her mother arrive. Watched the devastation ripple through her face. Watched her crumble under the weight of it all.
And he stayed there—silent, unmoving—carrying his own unbearable grief.
He kept his distance, seated on the farthest bench in the waiting room, hood drawn low over his head, staring blankly at the floor. His hands were clasped together tightly, knuckles pale from the pressure, as though holding them steady would somehow anchor the storm raging inside him.
But despite his efforts to remain unnoticed, her mother saw him.
She had been sitting nearby, slouched and weary after hours of crying, her eyes swollen and red from fear and exhaustion. Yet in the heavy silence that followed, as she wiped her cheeks and lifted her gaze, her tired eyes landed on him: this quiet, withdrawn boy seated alone, too still, too quiet for someone his age.
There was something in the way he sat, hunched over and rigid, that struck her heart immediately.
Without hesitation, she pushed herself to her feet, steadying her trembling hands as she approached him.
Kinich didn’t notice her at first; he was too lost in the weight of his own thoughts. But when she stopped beside him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, he stiffened slightly beneath her touch.
It wasn’t fear.
It wasn’t discomfort.
It was something else, something heavier.
Concern flickered across her face. Her instincts, sharpened by years of motherhood, recognized it at once: the quiet, unbearable grief of someone far too young to carry such sorrow.
She crouched down beside him, her movements slow and deliberate, as if approaching a wounded child. She didn’t pry. She didn’t press. She simply checked him over, her gaze soft but firm, scanning his face for signs of injury.
Her fingers brushed gently against his cheek, as though she were wiping away dirt or checking for bruises. Her voice stayed low, motherly, and laced with quiet worry. She asked if he was alright—if he was hurt anywhere—her words wrapped in that instinctive care only a mother could offer, especially in the face of such a devastating night.
Kinich’s throat tightened. He barely managed a stiff, shallow nod.
But her worry didn’t stop there.
Her voice softened further, almost hesitant, as she asked about Sethos.
She wanted to know if he was safe too. If he’d made it out. If both of them had survived the nightmare that swallowed the city.
The name struck him like a blade slipping beneath armor.
Sethos.
It hit too hard, too suddenly.
Kinich’s shoulders tensed under his jacket, his hands curling even tighter in his lap. He flinched—just slightly—but enough for her to notice.
Enough for her to see the subtle way his head lowered, as if to hide the pain twisting through his features.
He couldn’t bring himself to answer.
He couldn’t even look at her.
But that silence said more than words ever could.
Her heart sank instantly.
She recognized the truth in the way his eyes fell to the floor, in the tightness of his expression, and in the heavy way his breath shuddered through him.
And just like that, she knew.
Even without him saying it—without hearing the confirmation aloud—she knew.
Sethos was gone.
Her chest tightened, the weight of it crushing her all at once. But she didn’t let herself break. Not here. Not now. Not when there's a child in front of her who needs more comfort than her.
Instead, her gaze softened even further, and her hand gently reached for Kinich’s arm—this time, not to check for wounds, but simply to hold him.
Without a word, she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his hunched shoulders.
She didn’t ask for permission.
She just held him.
Held him the way a mother would hold her own child after a nightmare. Held him with quiet, steady comfort, even as her own heart fractured under the weight of her realization.
Kinich froze at first, caught off guard by the sudden warmth of her embrace. His breath hitched, and he stiffened beneath her arms, but she didn’t let go.
She simply stayed there, cradling him with quiet strength.
Because she understood.
She understood what it meant for a boy like him to carry the weight of losing one friend and possibly losing the other in just a single, cruel night.
To watch helplessly as everything crumbled around him.
She knew the grief he wasn’t ready to say out loud.
So she let him grieve in silence, offering what little comfort she could, her own tears falling quietly as she held him.
In that moment, neither of them spoke.
Then a few days passed; the hospital was quieter at night.
Gone was the flurry of nurses and urgent footsteps that had filled the hallways just hours ago. The bright, harsh lights had been dimmed, replaced by soft amber glows that barely reached the corners of the walls. Outside, rain whispered faintly against the windows—light and steady, as if the sky itself mourned alongside the city.
Kinich walked those halls in silence. During that time, he couldn't stay before the doctor could announce the current state of his best friend because [Y/N]'s mother insisted that he should take a rest and go home. He couldn't even argue with her suggestion because he was indeed tired and emotionally drained from the events of the day.
Now, his steps were slow and deliberate, his heartbeat heavy in his chest as he approached her room. He stopped just outside the doorway, staring at the faint crack of light seeping out from the room. For a long moment, he simply stood there, his hand hovering near the doorframe, unable to move.
Then—slowly, as if pulled by something far stronger than his will—he slipped inside.
The room was still, save for the quiet beeping of the heart monitor and the low hiss of the oxygen machine. The curtains were drawn, muting the moonlight to a faint silver glow that painted everything in soft, pale shades.
And there she was.
Lying in the hospital bed, tangled in thin white sheets, her face calm yet pale. The bruises still stained her skin—soft purples and faded reds along her cheekbones and arms, remnants of everything she had endured. A fresh bandage crossed her forehead, just above her brow, and her breathing came slow and steady beneath the oxygen mask.
Kinich’s heart twisted.
She looked so fragile like this.
So painfully fragile.
He moved toward her carefully, every step weighed down by the heaviness in his chest. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Words would shatter the fragile quiet between them, and he wasn’t ready to let them break.
Instead, he simply sat beside her bed, lowering himself into the chair tucked nearby.
He watched her.
Every detail. Every slow breath. Every slight twitch of her fingers as she rested.
And in that quiet, he let the truth rise up inside him, suffocating and sharp.
He’d almost lost her.
He’d seen her slip away in his arms, her body cold, her heartbeat weakening, her mind breaking beneath the weight of grief.
He had saved her physically, yes.
But even now, sitting here, he wasn’t sure he could save her from everything else.
His hand hovered over hers, hesitating before slowly resting near her fingertips—not quite touching, but close enough to feel the faint warmth of her skin.
There was a time when he’d believed he could protect them both—her and Sethos. That somehow, he could carry the weight of both worlds on his shoulders.
But now…
Now, there were cracks everywhere.
He watched the rise and fall of her chest, his throat tightening.
Somewhere deep in his heart, he’d always known what he felt for her.
The lingering glances. The way his heart picked up when she laughed. The way her smile softened even the darkest corners of his life.
But he had never imagined it like this, sitting at her bedside, wishing desperately that she’d wake up and never knowing if she'd even want him around when she learned everything.
His gaze fell to her face, tracing the soft curve of her lips and the flutter of her lashes as she slept.
There was something unbearably intimate about this moment—about watching her like this, knowing she couldn’t see the way his expression softened, the way his own heart ached for her.
A quiet, unspoken confession lingered in the space between them.
He didn’t deserve her.
Not after all this.
And yet, here he was, still unable to leave her side.
His fingers brushed against hers, just barely—a ghost of a touch, so light it could have been imagined. But the moment it happened, something in him gave way.
He wanted to hold her hand.
He wanted to take her pain, her grief, her nightmares—and carry them all for her.
Because somewhere along the way, this wasn’t just about protecting her anymore.
It was about loving her.
Quietly. Silently.
Even if she never knew.
Even if she would never forgive him if she ever learned the truth.
He closed his eyes, leaning forward slightly, his forehead nearly resting against the edge of her bed.
He stayed like that for a moment, forehead hovering near her hand, the quiet of the room pressing down on him like the weight of the city itself. His pulse was steady, but there was an ache beneath it, a dull throb that hadn’t left since that night—since he watched her break in ways no one ever should.
And yet, as his eyes opened again, he knew it wasn’t enough to sit there in silence.
Something deeper stirred inside him, pulling him beyond the fear, beyond the guilt that screamed he didn’t deserve to be near her.
His hand trembled as he slowly sat up from the chair, his every movement weighed with hesitation, with self-loathing that clawed at his chest.
But he couldn’t stop himself.
His heart ached—no, it yearned—with something deeper than grief.
It was selfish. He knew it was selfish.
But right then, watching her sleep, her face soft despite the bruises, her breath steady despite the storm that had torn her world apart—he could no longer pretend that he didn’t love her.
He reached out with a shaky hand, his fingers hovering just above her cheek.
He shouldn’t.
He shouldn’t.
But still… slowly, reverently, as if touching something sacred, he let his fingertips graze the side of her face.
Warm.
So warm, even after everything.
He let his palm cup her gently, cradling her cheek in his calloused hand, feeling the delicate rise and fall of her breathing under his touch.
His thumb brushed faintly against her temple, tracing the edge of the soft bandage there.
Even now, unconscious and broken, she looked like something he could never have.
And maybe that was why it hurt so much.
His chest tightened as he leaned down, breath ghosting over her skin, heart pounding loud enough that he wondered if it would wake her.
He pressed the lightest, most fragile kiss to her forehead.
A fleeting touch—barely there—but enough to burn through him like wildfire.
And as he pulled back, his voice escaped in a low, cracked murmur, only for her ears.
"…I’m sorry."
Sorry for everything.
Sorry for not saving Sethos.
Sorry for letting her suffer.
Sorry for loving her when he couldn't allow himself to.
He let the words linger, the weight of them hanging in the air like smoke.
Then, as if afraid to tempt fate any further, he slowly pulled away, releasing her from his touch, his heart dragging behind every inch of distance he placed between them.
His gaze lingered on her face, memorizing every fragile detail one last time. And slowly, with trembling fingers, Kinich reached inside his jacket.
He pulled out a folded note, creased at the edges from how many times he'd taken it out and hesitated, wondering whether he should leave it at all. He had written it before coming here, unsure if he’d ever gather the courage to hand it over.
It wasn’t from the Green Ghost.
It wasn’t a hero’s farewell.
It was from him—plain, vulnerable, and selfish.
He stared at it for a heartbeat longer, debating whether he had the right to let her see this part of him.
But in the end, his heart chose for him.
Quietly, he set it down beside her, tucking it gently under her hand where she might find it when she woke. His fingertips lingered on the paper for a moment too long—hesitating, reluctant to sever this last connection—but eventually, he let go.
No more lingering. No more delaying.
This had to be goodbye.
Without another glance back, Kinich stood and left the room, the door clicking softly behind him as he disappeared into the dim, empty halls of the hospital—just another shadow swallowed by the night.
—
Time had passed, more than most would have expected.
Years slipped by, marked by curtain calls and the glow of stage lights, by applause echoing through grand theaters that once felt worlds away from the streets where everything shattered.
[Y/N] had become a name people admired, a celebrated Broadway actress, hailed for her emotional performances and grace. Headlines often carried her name beside glowing reviews and sold-out shows. Her face adorned posters along boulevards, smiling from marbled theater walls, forever caught in moments of elegance and light.
But no matter how far she’d risen, there was one thing she never outran.
The hospital room.
That night.
The letter.
Even now, amidst the chaos of her dressing room after another standing ovation, her thoughts sometimes drifted back to it, the note that waited for her the day she awoke from that unbearable slumber.
It had been tucked beneath her fingertips when she stirred awake, her body still weak from exhaustion and bruises wrapped tight in fresh bandages. Her mother had been there, relieved beyond words, but it was the folded paper resting against her palm that stole her breath first.
She remembered the tremble in her hands as she unfolded it, the weight in her chest heavier than any wound. The handwriting was familiar: sharp, steady strokes she’d seen countless times in the margins of Kinich’s old notebooks. But there was something different about it here. No bravado. No jokes.
Just raw honesty, stripped bare.
"If you’re reading this, then I already left. I don’t deserve to stay. There are some people in this world who leave nothing but ruin in their wake, no matter how hard they try to save what matters. I know that now. I was too late to save him. Too slow to stop him. And too selfish to walk away before everything fell apart. I broke my promise to you. And I can’t face you knowing that I failed twice—first as your friend, then as the coward who couldn’t stay. You have every right to hate me. You should. But even if you do… I want you to live. I want you to survive this. Because someone like you was never meant to be trapped in the ruins we left behind. Please keep moving forward. Please keep shining.
This city needs your light far more than it ever needed mine.
—Kinich"
The words had shattered something inside her that day.
Not just because he’d vanished without goodbye, but because she could feel every crack of guilt and sorrow pressed between those lines, every ounce of self-loathing he had drowned himself in.
He wasn’t just leaving her.
He was running—from himself, from what he’d done, from what he thought he was.
A farewell from a broken boy who believed he didn’t deserve a place beside her anymore.
She had hated him at first.
She hated how he left. How he disappeared without giving her a choice—how he thought it was his decision alone to make.
And for a long time, it ate at her. It left her hollow and angry and grief-stricken all over again, mourning both Sethos and Kinich as though she had lost them on the same night.
She’d cried herself to sleep more times than she could count after reading it.
But as the years passed, something shifted.
She began to understand.
She’d tasted the sharpness of loss herself and had learned that some pain can’t be carried in the open, no matter how many friends or stages surround her. Kinich’s words were not abandonment.
They were the last act of someone breaking under their own heartache.
That letter didn’t chain her to grief.
It handed her a key to grow beyond it.
And so she had.
She finished college with flying colors, as she pushed herself harder and devoted herself to the arts that had once been her refuge even before that nightmare. She’d risen from a girl crushed by tragedy to a woman revered for her craft.
But she never forgot where it began.
Not a day passed that she didn’t carry them both in the quiet places of her heart.
That’s why, after her final curtain call that season, she found herself standing outside the weathered old house tucked in the quieter edges of the city.
Sethos’s childhood home.
Bamoun still lived there.
The man had aged in those years—his back slightly more bent, his hair far grayer—but his eyes still held that sharp, dignified kindness. He welcomed her inside with a quiet nod, and she stepped through the doorway as though she were walking back into the past itself.
The house smelled the same.
Faint sandalwood and old leather, with hints of smoke from the little clay incense burner always resting on the mantle. The same worn furniture, the same rows of books and basketball trophies gathering dust.
In the corner, a framed photograph remained untouched—a young Sethos, beaming bright with his crooked grin, clutching a basketball with Kinich frowning at his side. She stood in the background in that photo too, blurry but unmistakable.
It nearly undid her.
But she stood tall, offering a soft, respectful bow to Bamoun, who simply watched her with knowing eyes.
She didn’t need words. Her presence alone said everything.
She stayed for a long time, paying her respects in the quiet of that house, as Bamoun sat nearby, their grief shared in the silence. Using their delicate time to chatter about recollecting the past memories of the trio—where they had been the happiest at that moment—then talking about the possibilities of scenarios if Sethos didn't have a cruel fate wherein he was likely to be a professional varsity basketball player, kind enough to coach little kids in the neighborhood, and probably graduated with flying colors with his friends.
It brought a bittersweet comfort to reminisce about the potential future that was stolen from Sethos, imagining the joy and success he could have experienced.
—
The dressing room was still bustling—costumes being packed away, makeup wiped off with hurried hands, and laughter spilling from every corner as her fellow performers chatted excitedly about the afterparty. Bouquets lined the room, congratulatory cards spilling over tables, some with her name written in bold, swirling letters.
She smiled, polite and gracious, as always.
But her heart wasn’t there.
"Come on, you have to join us tonight!" one of her co-actors called, beaming as they pulled on their coat. "You were incredible! First round's on me."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Not tonight," she said, tucking her belongings neatly into her bag. "I've got… other plans."
They teased her for being too mysterious, joking about secret lovers or quiet getaways, but she only smiled, letting them believe whatever they wanted.
Truthfully, there were no grand plans. No hidden romance.
Only a place she’d been avoiding for far too long.
She slipped out quietly once the crowd thinned, blending into the quiet night beyond the theater. The streets were still alive with neon lights and late-night chatter, but she barely noticed as she walked, her pace steady, purposeful.
Her car was parked just a few streets away, waiting like a silent promise. She drove with the windows down, letting the cool night air wash over her, the city slowly giving way to quieter roads as she approached the old neighborhood.
It didn’t take long to find it again.
The school stood like a fossil from another era—gates rusted, windows boarded up in places, and paint peeling beneath years of neglect. No children’s laughter here anymore. No teachers’ voices echoing through the halls.
Only memories.
She parked nearby, slipping out of the car with a quiet breath. The air was different here—still, almost reverent.
Her heels clicked softly against the cracked pavement as she made her way toward the old courtyard, passing familiar landmarks swallowed by time.
And then she saw it.
The tree.
Still standing, still stubbornly alive despite everything else crumbling around it.
Her steps slowed.
This was why she’d come.
This wasn’t the most proper place for a memorial. It wasn’t a cemetery or a shrine. But this—this was their place. The spot where Sethos’s laughter had once rung loudest, where Kinich’s quiet presence had always lingered nearby.
Where her heart had been unknowingly left behind.
She approached slowly, eyes softening at the sight of faint traces of old petals near the base, remnants of the bouquet she’d left here last year, now withered and scattered by the wind.
Carefully, she knelt down, laying the new bouquet in their place.
Wildflowers again.
She always brought wildflowers.
Her voice was quiet as she spoke, a private confession only the night could hear.
"I know this probably looks ridiculous," she said, smiling faintly. "But this is still where you’re clearest to me, Sethos."
The words kept flowing—updates about her life, about her performances, about the cities she’d traveled to and the awards she’d collected, though none of it ever seemed to matter as much in this place.
And then her voice faltered, softer now, tinged with sadness.
"I still haven't been able to reach Kinich."
Her gaze drifted toward the empty space beside the tree where he used to sit, legs lazily stretched out, pretending not to listen.
"His number's been gone for years now. His apartment, too. Like he vanished without a trace."
She swallowed, fingers curling slightly in the grass.
"But I hope… I hope he's out there somewhere, eating well, laughing sometimes, and finding peace, even if I wasn't part of it."
She forced a small laugh, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"And… yeah. I never got to tell him either. Not back then. Not before he left."
Her heart ached with the weight of it, but she didn’t cry.
Not here.
Instead, she sat there a little longer, her fingers trailing along the worn bark as if it could somehow bring her back to those afternoons when everything was simpler.
The night deepened around her, quiet and still.
And it even settled into a hushed, heavy quiet by the time he approached.
Kinich moved like a shadow through the abandoned streets, steps soundless against the cracked pavement. He knew this path by heart—every corner, every rusted gate, every loose stone along the sidewalk. He had walked it countless times since leaving the city, always in secret.
He didn’t visit during the day. Never when people could see.
Only at night, when even the ghosts seemed too weary to stir.
And tonight was no different, at least that’s what he thought.
He’d expected the courtyard to be empty, just as it always was after her yearly visit. She was consistent, after all. She would come, leave her flowers, whisper her stories to the wind, then disappear before the hour grew too late.
But as he neared the old campus, something felt… off.
He slowed, his breath catching faintly in his throat.
Light.
Soft and faint, but there—a figure beneath the tree, seated quietly in the dark.
His heart stopped.
It was her.
Still here.
She sat curled near the base of the tree, her back resting against the rough bark, her head tilted slightly down as she traced her fingers along the roots. Her hair glimmered under the thin sliver of moonlight, framing her face in soft shadows.
Kinich froze where he stood, half-shielded by the crooked fence.
He hadn’t been seen yet. He should leave—turn back, vanish down the alleyway like he always did.
But his legs wouldn’t move.
Instead, he watched.
Watched as she sat there, unmoving, the bouquet freshly placed at the base of the tree. He could hear her quiet breaths, soft and steady, carrying with them the weight of something unspoken.
His chest tightened.
She was never this early before. Never stayed long enough for the air to grow this still, this heavy.
Maybe she was waiting for something.
Or someone.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, cursing the irony.
Of all nights for her to linger… it had to be tonight.
When he finally dared to open them again, his gaze softened.
She hadn’t changed—not really.
Older, yes. Her features are more refined, touched by years of success and grief alike. But beneath it all, she was still the same girl who had once sat beneath this very tree with two boys who thought the world was theirs.
To him, she's still more beautiful than ever.
And here she was—alone now—carrying both their ghosts.
Something cracked inside him.
Before he realized it, his feet moved forward.
Quiet steps.
Careful breaths.
She still hadn’t noticed him yet, lost in her thoughts.
It wasn’t until he was almost near enough to touch the tree himself that her head lifted, her gaze sharp and alert.
Their eyes met.
Her breath hitched, stunned.
He stopped in his tracks, fully revealed under the moonlight.
The world seemed to shrink around her.
For a long, breathless moment, [Y/N] couldn't move—couldn't even think—staring at the man standing just a few steps away, half-wreathed in the shadows of the tree branches. Her heart thudded violently against her ribs, disbelieving, confused, and hopeful in the most fragile way.
It couldn’t be.
It couldn’t be him.
But it was.
Older now, yes—his face sharper, his jaw more defined, shadows clinging beneath his eyes like remnants of sleepless nights—but still Kinich. Still the same boy she’d known, though weighed down by the years between them. His hair was a little longer, brushed back messily, but his gaze…
That gaze had not changed.
Those familiar, dark eyes locked with hers, unreadable but intense, filled with something she couldn’t yet name, something ancient, almost weary, yet steady.
Her breath shook as she slowly pushed herself up from the roots of the tree, legs unsteady beneath her. She couldn’t tell if it was from the cold of the night or the sheer force of emotion that flooded her chest, but her knees nearly buckled as she rose.
She took a tentative step forward.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch, didn’t speak, didn’t even blink—just watched, silent as ever.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Her hands hovered up between them, trembling despite herself, as though she feared he would vanish the second she touched him. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached toward him, her fingertips barely brushing through the space between them, afraid to shatter this fragile reality.
The pads of her fingers hovered near his face—his cheekbones, his jaw, the faint scar near his temple that hadn’t been there before.
He was real.
Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to make contact. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart threatening to collapse under the weight of everything she wanted to ask, everything she wanted to scream, and everything she wanted to feel.
How many times had she imagined this moment in her dreams? In the late hours of sleepless nights, curled up in empty hotel rooms, wishing she could turn back time to stop him from leaving?
And now here he was.
Flesh and bone.
Scarred but alive.
Her fingers finally grazed the edge of his cheek, feather-light, as though she were afraid he might break beneath her touch. The warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips nearly undid her completely.
Her breath hitched. She couldn’t stop it.
"Kinich…"
The name barely slipped past her lips, but it was enough to crack the air between them. Her voice trembled, thick with disbelief, relief, and something dangerously close to grief.
Her thumb lingered near his jaw, tracing over the faint stubble there, almost marveling at how much had changed—how much time had passed since she’d last seen his face without a mask or a disguise.
His eyes flickered faintly at her touch, but he still didn’t move away.
He just stood there, letting her feel for herself that he was real.
That he was here.
Her hands were shaking now, openly trembling as she cupped his face more fully, as if grounding herself through him.
"You’re really here," she whispered, barely breathing the words. "After everything…"
Tears began to spill, slow at first but quickly overwhelming, streaming down her cheeks in hot, unchecked rivers. She couldn’t hold it back anymore, not after everything. All the years she had spent holding herself together, smiling through the ache, convincing herself that she had already accepted the past. It all unraveled in an instant, leaving her raw and trembling in front of him.
Her hands slid from his face to his shoulders, gripping tightly—as if afraid he would vanish again—and then she pulled him into her.
She collapsed against him, burying her face into the space between his shoulder and neck as a sob ripped from her chest. It wasn’t graceful or quiet. It was shuddering, broken, filled with years of longing, betrayal, grief, and relief all tangled together.
Kinich’s body tensed in the sudden contact.
For a heartbeat, he stood frozen, his arms stiff at his sides, muscles wound tight beneath her touch. He wasn’t used to this anymore. He wasn’t sure he deserved it. Her warmth against him, her scent so achingly familiar, the sound of her crying against his collar, it rattled him to the bone.
But then—slowly, hesitantly—his arms lifted.
Awkward at first, unsure.
One hand hovered near her back, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure whether it was right to hold her.
But she clung to him tighter, her cries muffled but desperate as her fists curled into the fabric of his shirt.
And that was all it took.
The fight drained out of him.
Kinich’s arms wrapped around her fully, pulling her close—gently, but firmly—until there was no space left between them. His hands were steady now, one pressing softly against the back of her head, the other resting between her shoulder blades, as if shielding her from everything, even now.
And gods, how he had missed this.
Her warmth. Her scent. The way she fit so naturally against him, like this was where they were always meant to be.
It hurt.
It burned.
But he couldn’t let go.
She sobbed harder, pouring everything into him—her grief over Sethos, the pain of Kinich’s sudden disappearance, and the weight she’d carried alone all this time. Her tears soaked into his shirt, but she didn’t care. She just needed to hold him. To feel him. To know he was finally here.
Her words came out between gasps, muffled against his chest.
"Why… why did you leave?" she cried, her voice cracked and breathless. "Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why—why did you make me grieve for you too?"
Kinich closed his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line, but still said nothing.
He knew there weren’t words to fix this. No apology is deep enough. No excuse worthy of the hurt he’d caused her.
But still… he held her tighter.
Letting her shake in his arms, letting her cry until her voice grew hoarse and her body weakened from the storm of it all.
Her cries slowly softened, tapering into quiet, broken gasps against his chest. Her hands loosened their grip on his shirt, her body sagging from sheer exhaustion—physically, emotionally, everything.
But she didn’t pull away.
Neither did he.
Kinich held her steady, his fingers unconsciously curling into the fabric of her coat, reluctant to let this fragile moment end.
He could feel her breaths, warm and uneven, against the hollow of his throat.
When she finally spoke again, it was hoarse—barely a whisper.
"…Say something."
Her voice was thin and shaking but steady enough to make the words sting.
She didn’t plead.
She didn’t ask him to apologize or explain.
She just wanted something.
Anything.
Kinich’s throat tightened, but he swallowed the lump threatening to rise.
He knew there was no easy way to answer.
But after everything—after the years of distance, the nights of guilt clawing inside him—he owed her at least this.
His voice came low and rough from disuse, but it carried the full weight of everything left unsaid between them. "I thought… if I stayed away," he said quietly, his breath grazing her temple, "you’d be better off."
His words were soft, but they sank between them like lead.
She stiffened faintly in his arms but didn’t interrupt.
He kept going, his voice steady but distant, as if each word had been rehearsed a thousand times in his head.
"I wasn’t strong enough to face you back then," he admitted, the confession tasting bitter on his tongue. "Not after what happened… not after what I did."
He finally let his eyes fall shut, the old guilt pressing down on him again.
"I knew you’d wait," he said, almost like a sigh. "That’s what terrified me most."
A long pause.
He felt her breath catch—barely noticeable—but she didn’t pull away.
And in that silence, he allowed himself to say the one thing he had buried the deepest.
"…I missed you."
Simple words.
But they tore something open in both of them.
They weren’t dramatic or grand—there was no need for that between them.
They were raw.
Honest.
Undeniable.
His arms tightened, just slightly, as if anchoring himself to her before he finally added, even softer:
"More than you’ll ever know."
His voice broke faintly at the end—not loud, not obvious—but enough for her to hear the cracks behind the calm facade.
Enough for her to feel just how much it had cost him to stay away.
Her heart clenched at his words.
Something in the way he said it—the quiet devastation behind his voice, the unspoken years of regret woven into each syllable—unraveled her again.
She felt her throat tighten painfully, her chest growing heavier by the second.
And before she could stop herself, the tears returned, hot, silent, and slipping down her cheeks with renewed force. It wasn’t loud this time. No sharp sobs, no gasping breaths. Just quiet tears, falling freely, as though her heart had been cracked open all over again by those simple words.
She tightened her arms around him instinctively, pulling him closer with a trembling grip, as if trying to shield him from the world, or perhaps herself from everything else. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, knuckles white from how hard she held on, and her forehead pressed to the curve of his shoulder.
Neither of them spoke for a long while.
There were no words needed.
She could feel the way he held her back—still firm, still steady—but there was something different now. He wasn’t awkward anymore. He wasn’t holding back or hesitating.
He was here—present, fully, completely—letting himself stay.
The minutes slipped by in their quiet embrace, the night air cool around them but the space between their bodies warm from shared grief.
And in that stillness, a fragile but undeniable thought bloomed within her.
She didn’t want to let him walk away again.
With a soft, trembling breath, she finally lifted her head—just enough to glance up at him, her eyes glassy and rimmed red from crying.
She saw it again, up close—the sorrow in his face, the way his features had sharpened over the years, but still carried that familiar gentleness deep beneath the lines of regret.
Her voice came out quiet, barely more than a breath.
"…Stay."
The word hung between them like a delicate thread.
He looked at her, unmoving—but she could see the shift in his eyes, the faint flicker of uncertainty, of hesitation.
She didn’t give him the chance to retreat.
Her hand slid down from his shoulder, her fingers curling gently around his wrist—grounding him.
Her next words carried no expectation, no weight of guilt or obligation.
Just a quiet offer. An invitation.
"…Mourn with me."
Her voice cracked at the edges, thick with lingering tears—but there was something steady beneath it. A quiet resilience born from all the years she had endured this grief alone.
She wasn’t asking him to fix it.
She wasn’t asking him to stay forever.
She was asking him—just this once—not to run.
To share this moment with her.
To remember him together.
Her gaze softened, and she gave the faintest tug at his wrist—not demanding, simply guiding—as she glanced toward the old tree, where the faint remnants of the flowers she’d left still lay scattered among the roots.
His eyes followed her motion, and his breath seemed to catch.
The weight of everything they had lost was right there, just a few steps away.
For a moment, Kinich didn’t move.
But then—slowly—he let her guide him forward.
Step by step, side by side, until they stood together at the base of the tree, facing the quiet, worn memorial that only the two of them could truly understand.
She sank to her knees, fingers gently brushing the wilted petals, her other hand never leaving his.
And for the first time in years, Kinich knelt beside her—not as a masked vigilante, not as a ghost from the past.
Just himself.
The boy who had once laughed under this very tree.
The boy who had run away.
And now, the boy who finally stayed.
They sat in quiet mourning, their shoulders brushing, hands loosely intertwined, as the wind moved softly through the leaves above, whispering the names of the ones they could never forget.
[Y/N] kept her gaze on the small, withered petals at their feet, her fingers gently tracing the rough edges of the bark as if committing every scar of the tree to memory. Kinich remained at her side, silent, his hand still loosely tangled with hers, his thumb occasionally brushing against her knuckles, absentminded but steady, as though neither of them dared to break the fragile peace between them.
Above them, the branches swayed faintly in the wind, the soft rustle of leaves whispering through the night air, carrying with them the memories of long-forgotten laughter and youthful promises.
Neither of them spoke.
In this quiet moment, grief wasn’t as sharp as it had once been. It still lingered, yes—etched deep into their bones—but it had softened around the edges. It changed into something gentler, something more bearable now that it was finally shared.
As the wind stirred again, stronger this time, something subtle shifted between the leaves overhead.
A stray basketball, worn and faded from age, rolled out from the thick grass nearby—a ball that hadn’t been there earlier, its surface marked by scuffs and signatures long forgotten.
It stopped at the edge of their feet, gently rocking before settling still.
Neither of them moved at first—both staring at the object with wide, disbelieving eyes.
And then… as if in response to their quiet astonishment, a soft, playful breeze swept past them once more—lifting a few stray petals into the air, sending them twirling lazily between the branches above.
Somewhere in that breeze, there was a faint warmth. A quiet presence, lingering but not heavy.
If either of them listened closely enough, they might’ve sworn they heard it—
A quiet laugh.
Light.
Familiar.
The kind of laugh that once echoed across rooftops and basketball courts alike. A laugh filled with mischief and sunlit joy, as if the owner of it was still watching from somewhere just beyond reach, grinning that crooked grin of his.
Watching them.
Pleased.
Content.
Happy to see the two friends he’d cherished most finally together again.
And just like that, the breeze faded, leaving behind only the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet weight of peace settling gently over their shoulders.
Kinich let out a slow breath, eyes soft as he gazed upward.
Beside him, [Y/N] finally smiled—small, faint, but real—as she looked at the worn basketball resting near their feet.
The breeze played lightly with the strands of [Y/N]’s hair as she sat cross-legged on the picnic blanket, her fingers carefully unwrapping the sandwich Sethos had prepared. The layered slices of tomato, lettuce, cheese, and a perfectly grilled cut of chicken peeked out between slices of soft sourdough bread. The subtle aroma of garlic mayo and basil drifted upward, mingling with the nearby scent of grass and sun-warmed earth.
Sethos sat across from her, his sandwich already halfway eaten—but his attention wasn’t on the food anymore.
It was on her.
He watched with barely concealed anticipation as [Y/N] took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. She didn’t say anything at first, just glanced down at the sandwich again, taking another slower bite. Sethos stiffened slightly, one leg bouncing ever so slightly beneath the tablecloth of checkered fabric. His hands tightened around his own sandwich, his voice caught in his throat. Please like it, please like it, please like it—
"Too much mustard?" he asked, trying to sound casual, though his voice came out higher than usual.
[Y/N] blinked at him, surprised. Then, realizing what he was worried about, she gave a faint smile—small but warm—and quickly shook her head.
"No, it’s really good," she said. "Like, really. Did you… actually make this yourself?"
Sethos let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his shoulders dropping in quiet relief. "Yeah, I did," he replied, scratching the back of his neck. "Had to watch like three videos and ruin at least one loaf of bread. Totally worth it, though."
She laughed under her breath and took another bite, slower this time, more relaxed. The corners of her lips curled upward, and Sethos swore he saw sunlight catch in her expression. She's so cute… I want to kiss her.
The thought lingered in his mind, but he quickly pushed it away, not wanting to ruin the moment, since there was the urge in him to rush things just to quickly reach the next level of their relationship. This is my only chance to prove myself to her; I can't afford to be hasty and risk scaring her off.
He looked away for a moment, then back at her. There was a small crumb near the corner of her mouth—barely noticeable, but his eyes lingered on it. For a moment, he debated whether to say something or just let it be. His hand moved before his brain could catch up.
"Uh—hold on," he said quietly, leaning in just a little.
Before she could ask what, his fingers reached out gently and brushed away the crumb with the pad of his thumb. It was barely a touch—soft, fleeting—but enough to make [Y/N] freeze slightly in surprise. Her breath caught, lips parting just slightly as her eyes flicked up to meet his.
Sethos retracted his hand quickly, clearing his throat as a faint flush crept up his neck. "Sorry. Just… crumb," he muttered, eyes darting away toward the trees.
"Oh," she replied softly, blinking. Her voice was quiet too. "Thanks."
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The wind rustled through the leaves above them, cicadas humming in the distance. Sethos finally looked back at her, eyes warm but a little uncertain.
"You’re not… uncomfortable, right?" he asked, his voice lower now, more careful. "I don’t want to mess anything up."
She shook her head gently. "No. I’m just not used to… this." Her fingers gestured loosely at the picnic between them, the space they shared, and his nearness. "But I don’t mind it."
Sethos’s face softened into a smile—shy but so sincere. "Good. I can dial it down a bit, you know, if I’m being too much."
"You’re fine, Sethos," she said, smiling lightly as she looked down at her sandwich again. "I think I’m just trying to catch up to you."
He tilted his head, eyes still fixed on her. "Catch up?"
[Y/N] looked away, then back at him. "You’ve had time to figure out how you feel about me. I’m… still figuring things out."
His expression grew thoughtful, then gentle. Gosh, he loved this girl so much. "Then I’ll wait," he said simply. "However long it takes. I mean that."
She didn’t reply right away, but her fingers reached across the blanket, just enough to graze his hand in a quiet thank-you. And that was enough for Sethos.
He smiled again, heart light, and took another bite of his sandwich—though now it tasted better than before, simply because she was here with him, sharing this moment.
After the last bite of sandwich was gone and the wind had settled into a soft, rhythmic hush around them, Sethos wiped his hands on a napkin and reached into his bag with a boyish kind of excitement. He rummaged past a bottle of water, a crumpled hoodie, and a pack of mints before finally pulling out a well-worn sketchpad—the cover a little frayed at the corners, edges smudged with pencil dust. One of his favorite pastimes after playing basketball.
[Y/N] raised a curious brow as he held it up with both hands, like a magician about to unveil a trick. "You… brought that with you?"
He scratched the back of his head, cheeks already flushed pink. "Yeah, kind of cheesy, I know, but—well, I’ve wanted to sketch you for a while now."
Her eyes widened slightly, and her posture shifted, suddenly more aware of herself. "You want to sketch… me?"
He nodded, trying to downplay the nervous flutter in his chest. “Only if you’re okay with it. I know—I know it’s a little random, but—" He laughed sheepishly. "I brought it just in case I got the courage today."
[Y/N] looked down at her lap, brushing imaginary crumbs off her skirt and tugging at the sleeves of her cardigan. "I—I don’t know. I probably look a mess right now. My hair’s probably sticking out weird, and I didn’t even check my face after eating." She fiddled with her reflection in her phone’s dark screen, fluffing her hair nervously. "Are you sure you don’t want to draw me when I'm, you know… presentable?"
Before she could pull away further, Sethos reached out and gently grabbed her wrist—not tight, not urgent, just enough to still her. His fingers were warm and grounding. She stilled at the touch.
"Hey," he said softly, gaze steady. "You don’t need to fix anything. You’re perfect the way you are." His voice was so earnest, so quietly reverent, that she couldn’t look away.
"I want to draw you as you are now," he continued, his thumb brushing her wrist gently before letting go. "Right here, in this moment. That’s what I want to remember."
Her heart thudded unexpectedly loud in her chest. She didn’t know what to say to that. No one had ever said something like that to her before—at least, not like this. Not with eyes that saw her so clearly, like every part of her was something worth framing.
"O…okay," she whispered, finally nodding, trying to hide the growing warmth on her face as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Sethos grinned, visibly brightened by her answer. "Okay! Just sit like that. No pressure. Talk if you want, or just relax." He sat cross-legged again, flipping open his sketchpad to a fresh page. The faint sound of graphite against paper began to fill the comfortable silence between them.
And so, with her hands tucked in her lap and the sunlight dappled against her shoulders, [Y/N] watched Sethos sketch her with the softest awe in his eyes.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, sketchpad angled carefully against his thigh. His pencil danced lightly across the page at first—just faint, foundational lines, sweeping gestures that mapped the curve of her shoulders, the tilt of her head. He worked with a quiet intensity, brows drawn, lower lip tugged between his teeth as if afraid a single breath might throw the balance of the image off.
From where she sat on the checkered blanket, [Y/N] shifted a little in place, her back straightening as she tried to maintain whatever posture she had accidentally assumed. Her hands twisted gently in her lap. She glanced off to the side, pretending to be fascinated by the way sunlight flickered between the leaves above them. Every now and then, a breeze passed through, brushing strands of hair across her face, and she’d tuck them behind her ear again with a nervous smile.
This was… a little embarrassing.
She could feel the way he looked at her. Not with the intensity of someone judging, but with the attention of someone memorizing her—each strand of hair, the slope of her cheekbone, the slight downturn at the corner of her mouth when she wasn’t trying to smile. It was almost too much to sit still under the weight of that much focus.
She stole a glance at him, watching the way his eyes flicked from her to the page, his pencil now etching darker lines—firmer now, more confident. He moved on to shading, using the side of his graphite to soften the shadows under her chin, across her collarbone, and in the slight creases in the folds of her shirt.
"What?" Sethos asked without looking up, sensing her gaze on him. His lips curled into a boyish grin. "You’re dying to peek, huh?"
[Y/N] blinked and quickly looked away. "I-I wasn’t," she lied, a little too fast.
He chuckled, still scribbling, smudging with the side of his thumb now to blend the shadows. "Mhm. Sure."
She hesitated for a moment, then tried again, leaning just the slightest bit forward as if she could sneak a look. But Sethos was quick—he tilted the sketchpad toward his chest with an exaggerated gasp, playfully scandalized.
"Ah-ah, not yet!" he said. "It’s not finished. No spoilers."
[Y/N] puffed out her cheeks, defeated. "You're making it sound like a movie premiere."
"Well, it kind of is," Sethos said with a soft laugh, eyes crinkling. "I’ve never sketched someone I care about this much in face-to-face before."
She didn’t respond to that—not because she didn’t want to, but because her throat suddenly felt tight. She looked back at the sky again, letting silence swallow her words.
Sethos went back to work, gentler now—using a clean finger to blur the shading at the bridge of her nose, then picking up a finer pencil to sketch in the smaller details: her lashes, the dip of her cupid’s bow, and the faintest arch in her brows. He even captured the way her hair caught the light, penciling it in with careful strokes that fanned outward, a little wild but elegant.
Sethos nearly choked on the breath he forgot he was holding. "Alright," he murmured, gaze softening as he set the sketchpad down on the blanket, hiding the page beneath his hand. "You want to see it now?"
[Y/N] perked up immediately and gave a small, eager nod.
"But… close your eyes first."
She blinked, giving him a playful glare, lips pushing into a pout. "Seriously?"
He grinned. "Just trust me."
With a roll of her eyes and a muttered, "Fine, fine," [Y/N] let her eyelids fall shut, hands resting in her lap again as she waited.
But Sethos didn’t move right away. Instead, he stared.
Her face—softened by the golden sun filtering through the branches—was almost too much to take in. The lipstick she wore was a warm shade of red, subtle but enough to steal his breath. He watched how the light touched the curve of her cheek, the gentle part of her lips, and how serene she looked when she wasn’t watching the world so carefully. And in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to bridge the gap between them and close the distance.
So he leaned in, slowly, heart thudding louder than the birdsong around them, his actions moving before his thoughts could interrupt. His face was inches from hers now—just a whisper away. His breath hitched as his gaze dropped briefly to her lips.
"Are you—ready yet?" she whispered, still with eyes closed, unaware of how close he was.
He blinked. The sound of her voice reeled him back, snapping him out of his daze.
Sethos pulled back, barely, breath shaky. "Uh—not yet," he coughed softly, trying to play it off, eyes wide in self-reprimand. "Almost... just a second."
He went silent once more as he closed his eyes slowly, his mouth parting slightly to brush his lips against hers in hopes for a gentle, lingering kiss.
But then—chaos.
A sudden cry rang out from across the park. "My bag! That thief—he stole my bag!"
Both their heads snapped toward the sound. Near the vendor stalls by the sidewalk, an elderly woman had fallen to her knees, hand outstretched toward a figure darting through the crowd. A man, lean and quick, weaved past startled parkgoers with a handbag tucked under his arm, shoving anyone in his way.
Gasps echoed through the crowd. A mother shielded her child. A vendor cursed under his breath. But no one moved.
Sethos pushed himself to his feet, his jaw tightening—but before he could take a single step forward, [Y/N] grabbed his wrist and told him not to get involved in case the thief might be carrying dangerous weapons if he was caught. However, Sethos was too stubborn for his own good and reassured the girl. "I'll be back; just stay here."
Yet, before he could even take a step, a sudden flicker of light shimmered above the crowd like static on a screen.
A bright, electric green hook—pixelated as if plucked from an old-school arcade game—lashed out from somewhere in the treetops. It whipped through the air with a sharp crack and latched onto the thief’s ankle just as he was about to leap over a low hedge. The crowd collectively gasped.
The thief yelped as his momentum was yanked backward, his feet leaving the ground. He landed flat on his back with a thud that echoed across the park. Leaves scattered. A flock of birds flew overhead. For a second, all was still.
Then came the ripple of murmurs, excited and rising.
From above, a green blur zipped downward and landed with a smooth crouch beside the pinned man. The Green Ghost. Clad in his iconic dark green suit laced with glowing neon lines and a mask that covered his entire face, the mysterious hero stood tall as he hoisted the bag in one hand and restrained the dazed thief with the other, effortlessly disarming the situation in front of dozens of stunned witnesses.
Security guards finally ran in, panting and fumbling their radios, but it was already handled.
"Is this yours, ma’am?" he asked the elderly woman, kneeling to return her bag with a monotone voice hidden behind the mask. The woman nodded tearfully, clasping his gloved hand in thanks.
A loud cheer erupted from the gathered crowd. Phones were raised, and flashes went off. Children pointed in awe, calling his name. "The Green Ghost!" someone shouted. "He’s real!"
Back at the picnic blanket, Sethos stared, his lips twitching into a tight, unimpressed line. [Y/N], in contrast, had sprung to her feet, her eyes wide with admiration and excitement. "Look!" she pointed, practically beaming. "That’s him! That’s the guy I told you about—the one who saved me!"
Sethos didn’t respond at first. His arms crossed, his brows low. "Yeah. I see him," he mumbled, barely above a growl. "What’s so great about a guy who plays superhero dress-up anyway…"
But [Y/N] wasn’t listening anymore. "I’m going to go ask for an autograph!" she said excitedly, brushing imaginary dirt from her skirt.
"Wait—seriously?" Sethos blinked, suddenly alarmed. "You’re just going to run into a crowd of strangers—?"
But she was already half-gone, weaving through the people, her figure swallowed into the growing cluster surrounding the Green Ghost.
Sethos, still frozen where he stood, exhaled sharply through his nose, flopping backward onto the blanket. He stared up at the sky, blue and bright with clouds like pulled cotton, and scowled as if the universe itself had done him personal harm.
"Of all the damn times to show up…" he muttered bitterly, dragging a hand down his face. "I was two seconds away. Two."
The worst part wasn’t just being interrupted—it was being upstaged. By a pixelated dark neon knight in a bodysuit, no less. A guy who didn’t even have the guts to show his face. And somehow… he still got the spotlight. Still had her attention.
Sethos sat up with a grunt, his brows furrowed, irritation rolling off him like heat waves. Without thinking, he stood and stomped off after her, leaving the picnic blanket, basket, and sketchpad behind. Let the birds steal the sandwiches for all he cared. His eyes were already locked on one thing.
Meanwhile, [Y/N] was still trying to shimmy her way through the press of people, murmuring soft apologies as she bumped into shoulders and dodged raised phone screens. The crowd had thickened, phones snapping pictures, children squealing, and a man yelling something about uploading this to a fan page.
Her hand gripped her phone tightly, raised slightly above her chest, ready. But the closer she got, the harder it was to see him; he was surrounded on all sides by admirers and the curious. His dark silhouette was unmistakable, the glowing lines of green humming against his suit as he stood calmly in the center, handing back a child’s toy someone had dropped.
She stopped a few steps away, blocked by a wall of bodies. She tried hopping once, then twice, to catch his attention, her hand up.
"Excuse me! Um—hi! Sir!" she called out, a little louder now, a little more sheepish. "Green Ghost?"
She bit her lip, cheeks flushing in secondhand embarrassment when she got no immediate response. Maybe he didn’t hear her. Maybe he was looking at someone else entirely. But then—
The Green Ghost’s head turned ever so slightly, the soft green light of his mask settling in her direction. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but something about his stillness made her breath catch.
And then, without a word, the crowd parted. As if on cue, people stepped aside, some gasping or whispering excitedly as the vigilante made his way toward her. Every step was light, controlled, and graceful, even with the weight of his gear. He stopped right in front of her, just outside arm’s reach, his expression unreadable behind the sleek mask.
For a second, [Y/N] wasn’t sure what to say. He was taller up close than she remembered—perhaps it was the suit, or maybe the quiet presence he carried, like something larger than life wrapped up in shadows and sharp lines.
"Um…" She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve and gave a small smile. "I just—thank you. For back then. You saved me from… that monster. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t come."
The Green Ghost tilted his head slightly, as if acknowledging her gratitude. He still didn’t speak, but his stance softened.
"Oh, and…" She lifted her phone with a sheepish grin. "I didn’t bring anything to sign—sorry, I wasn’t exactly planning for this—but would it be okay to take a selfie?"
There was a brief pause. She held her breath.
Then he nodded once.
Her heart jumped slightly.
She stepped a bit closer, holding up her phone with practiced ease but a nervous flutter behind her smile. As she angled the camera, he leaned in subtly, just enough to be framed perfectly beside her. The green glow of his mask illuminated the side of her face faintly, and the contrast only made her smile warmer, more genuine. She snapped the photo.
"Thank you," she said, lowering the phone again, the image already saved in her gallery. "Really."
Before either of them could say another word, Sethos’s voice rang out behind her.
"There you are."
She turned, blinking. Sethos stood a few steps back, arms crossed, his expression tight with something unreadable. He glanced from her to the Green Ghost and then to her phone, his brows lifting in silent judgment. But he said nothing—at least not directly. Just offered a low, muttered comment under his breath:
"Guy gets a suit, and suddenly he’s everyone’s favorite."
[Y/N] raised an eyebrow at him, amused. "Jealous much?"
Sethos’s jaw twitched. "Hardly."
The Green Ghost merely observed the exchange in silence, his posture unreadable. Then, with a dip of his head to both of them, he turned and disappeared into the crowd as quickly as he had come—ghost-like, as always. The murmurs and awe trailed after him, but the moment passed like a gust of wind, swift and strange.
[Y/N] turned back to Sethos, still holding her phone.
"Want to see the picture?"
"Not particularly," he grumbled.
[Y/N] blinked, lips parting in surprise, watching the subtle shift in his expression—the flicker of something bitter tightening around his eyes before he turned away. No witty remark, no teasing grin. Just a scowl pulled low across his brow as he pivoted and walked back toward the picnic site.
Her eyes lingered on his back, shoulders squared, posture stiff with the kind of quiet frustration he rarely wore for long. She hesitated, fingers curling slightly around her phone. That… wasn’t like him. Not entirely. Not without a joke to mask it.
Still, she followed.
The grass crunched beneath her flats, and the sunlight no longer felt as warm as it did a moment ago. When she reached the spot, she found him kneeling beside the picnic blanket, muttering to himself as he shoved the water bottles back into the basket with a bit more force than necessary. One of them nearly tipped over, but he caught it mid-roll with a muttered, "Tch."
"Sethos?" she asked gently, pausing a few feet away.
He didn’t look at her. "Yeah?"
She stepped closer, carefully smoothing her skirt as she sat beside the scattered remnants of their picnic. "Are you… upset?"
He froze. Just for a second. His hands stilled over the napkins, and the tension in his shoulders didn’t go away—if anything, it deepened.
"…Nah," he said, forcing a shrug as he looked anywhere but at her. "I just didn’t expect our fun day to turn into a fan convention, you know? One second I’m trying to show you my terrible drawing, and the next second you’re running off to get selfies with some guy in a green catsuit."
His words were delivered with the usual Sethos flavor—half-playful, lighthearted sarcasm—but underneath that was something quieter. A pinch of genuine disappointment.
[Y/N] tilted her head, studying him in the soft golden light. His pout was poorly hidden behind his usual bravado, but it was there. Like a kid denied the last cookie. Or maybe something deeper than that.
"…He saved my life, remember?" she said softly. "Back then, I just wanted to thank him properly this time. It wasn’t because—"
"I know." He cut her off quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know. That’s not—it’s not your fault."
Her brows furrowed, concern lacing her features. "Then why won’t you look at me?"
That caught him. His hand paused halfway through folding the blanket, eyes finally flicking toward her—just a glance—but it was enough for her to see that complicated storm behind them. Embarrassment, sure. Maybe even jealousy. But more than that, there was that vulnerability again. The one he rarely let her see.
He sighed, collapsing backward onto the blanket with a dramatic groan, one hand flung over his forehead like some tragic actor.
"Okay, okay, I’m sorry," he said. "I’m being dramatic. I just… I don't know. You were looking at him the way I wanted you to look at me for once. And yeah, that stings a little."
[Y/N] blinked. The honesty in his words wasn’t grand or poetic—but it hit her like a soft ache in her chest.
"But," he added quickly, sitting back up, "you came back. You followed me. And… that’s more than enough."
She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned forward slightly and brushed a grass blade off his sleeve. It was such a small gesture, but it made him freeze again, like her fingers had pressed some invisible pause button on him. Startled, he glanced at the spot she touched, then slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.
[Y/N] pulled her hand back quickly, tucking it into her lap as if it had done something wrong. Her gaze faltered, then flicked up through her lashes with a tentative sort of hope.
"Um…" she murmured, her voice quieter than before, "can I see it now? The drawing, I mean."
Sethos blinked. He stared at her like she’d just asked him to recite a love poem in front of a crowd. His mouth opened—then closed. He scrambled for the sketchpad near the corner of the blanket like he’d forgotten it even existed, fumbling a little as he flipped it shut and held it protectively against his chest.
"Oh. Uh—yeah. Right. You want to see it now?"
She tilted her head, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile at how his ears had turned just a little red.
"Only if you’re okay with it," she said softly. "I mean… you promised earlier."
"I did promise," he muttered, dramatically defeated. "Damn my own words."
But he was smiling now—soft and crooked—as he sat up straighter and exhaled like he was about to make a life-changing decision.
"Alright," he said, "but you have to prepare yourself. It’s not, like, museum-grade or anything. And I didn’t have time to fix the angle of your nose or the way your hair caught the light or your eyes—actually, your eyes were hard, because they kind of sparkle weirdly—like good weird, not creepy weird—and the pencil doesn’t—okay, okay, shut up, Sethos—"
She giggled, hiding it behind her hand.
He sighed and handed over the sketchpad. "Just… here. Before I keep digging a grave."
[Y/N] accepted it delicately, like it was a sacred thing, her fingers brushing the spiral binding. She looked down—and her breath caught.
The lines were soft and full of intention. Shading kissed the page with just enough care to bring dimension to her features. There was a warmth to it, a sincerity that photos never seemed to hold. It wasn’t flawless—but it wasn’t supposed to be. It felt like her. Like the way someone who truly saw her would remember her in their mind.
She traced the lines of the sketch lightly with her eyes. Her pose, quiet and calm—just how she’d been sitting moments before, hands in her lap, her hair cascading gently over her shoulder, the light in the drawing capturing how it shimmered against her skin.
"…This is beautiful," she said finally, her voice nearly a whisper.
Sethos made a sound halfway between a relieved laugh and a breath he'd been holding for years. "Really?"
She looked at him, eyes shining just a little. "Yeah, really."
He let his head fall back in mock exhaustion. "Thank God. I thought you were going to roast me. I was ready.'
She shook her head. "I wouldn’t. Not after you drew me like this."
He peeked over at her, cheeks still flushed. "Like what?"
"Like…" Her lips parted, but she hesitated—because putting it into words felt heavy. She glanced back down at the sketch, then smiled gently. "Like I matter."
Sethos stared at her, all humor washed from his face for a heartbeat, leaving only something vulnerable and open in its place.
"…You do," he said, voice low. "Of course you do."
And suddenly, the silence between them wasn’t awkward or heavy. It was warm again. Full of something soft and blooming. She held the sketchpad closer to her chest, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. While Sethos stared at her like she was the most important thing he’d ever drawn… and maybe ever would.
"Hi, everyone! We're the main cast of 'My Crush Has a Double Life?!'" The trio delightedly greeted the ongoing camera with professional, beaming smiles plastered on each of their faces as the three actors waved to the imaginary audience. Gone were the usual costumes they wore during the set, and only their elegant, casual attire was on display, giving fans a rare glimpse into their off-screen personalities.
With Sethos wearing a black, branded turtleneck paired with darkened jeans and leather boots, his long black coat hung over his shoulders. His long dark brown hair was now elegantly tied into a tight ponytail, and then his pale strands were braided in front. Then Kinich's attire involved an emerald-green button-down shirt and denim jeans, completed with stylish sneakers. His hair—nothing changed much—still remained loose and tousled. Lastly, [Y/N] wore a neutral-beige plaid blazer, its sleeves rolled up from her elbows, followed by dark flared jeans and black heels. Surprisingly, she was the one who touched up her hair and makeup in her own signature style.
"Today, we will be answering some questions regarding the show, and hopefully, nothing too controversial," [Y/N] said with a lighthearted laugh, clapping her hands once, and slightly tilted her head to the side. The boys on each of her sides cracked an amused smile at her silly remark.
Then followed Sethos: "The questions prepared are mostly what could've been expected at the show, and some are hypothetical and personal." He smiled and nodded his head after his statement, as he glanced at the last actor to speak.
"So, let's get started and dive into the first question." Kinich casually ended the swift introduction, then moved on to the next agenda, where a box filled with printed questions was settled on a small, circular table in the center of the room. Kinich was the first actor to initiate the Q&A session by reaching into the box and pulling out the first question.
Finally he read it out loud: "What could have been in the original plot of the story?"
There was a collective of "ooohs" and intrigued expressions from Sethos and [Y/N], exchanging knowing glances as they intently awaited Kinich's response.
Kinich folded the paper in half as he began to explain his interpretation of the original plot, staring straight at the camera with a blank expression. "There were… There were a lot of major changes that happened in the show." Then he trailed off into his brief silence. "For starters, [Y/N]'s character was supposed to die by the end of the show, and Sethos' character was supposed to be held in confinement after his defeat, while my character grieved over the loss of his two best friends."
[Y/N] gagged at the mention of her character's original fate, her mouth slightly parted in shock at dropping the bombshell so casually, while Sethos raised his eyebrows in surprise but nodded his head in agreement with the alterations that were mentioned.
"And during her supposed death by falling off the building because Sethos' character accidentally swung her, that's where my character revealed to her that he is the Green Ghost with a half-broken mask and died after knowing the shocking truth."
Afterwards, silence followed to fill in the room as Kinich slowly turned his head to the side, where his eyes met the two gaping actors. "Was that too much information?" he asked.
Sethos chuckled and shook his head, reassuring his friend. "Nah, nah, that was fine," and then he added some remarks to Kinich's explanation. "It is true that it was supposed to be in the original plot, but the author thought it might be too dramatic and overwhelming for the audience, so she killed my character instead."
This earned a round of chuckles from both [Y/N] and Kinich.
Suddenly [Y/N] remembered a particular change of scene as she eagerly tapped Sethos by the shoulder. "Oh! You know that in the original story, your character transformed into a beast because of a slip-up, right?" Sethos nodded, his eyes intrigued. "Before that scene was finalized, like before the picnic date and everything, your character was supposed to transform after my character rejected yours," the girl pointed out, her hands moving animatedly as she recounted the details.
Sethos let out an 'o' and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, that was also the initial flow of Sethos' abyssal transformation. Then again, we thought it might be too cliche and bland."
Afterward, [Y/N] turned to Kinich and politely asked, "Do you have anything to add before we go to the next question, Kinich?"
Kinich blankly stared at his two co-stars and then at the imaginary audience. "Actually, there was supposed to be a steamier moment with both my character and [Y/N]'s character—" "THAT IS NOT TRUE!" A sudden shove on his side almost accidentally caused him to fall off the chair due to his misleading statement; his eyes widened at the immediate contact.
The camera then focused on [Y/N], and she assured the fans behind the screens, frantically waving her hands, followed by a strained chuckle escaping her lips. "He's just joking! There was absolutely no 'steamy' moment between our characters in the script." With her ruffled-up feathers, she quickly took the turn of the subject. "A-Anyway! Next question, please!"
Eventually Sethos seized the opportunity to take another paper from the box, carefully unwrapping it to reveal the awaited question as he read it out loud. "How were the actors able to get used to handling different emotions from their usual personality?" He nodded, understanding the intent of the question, and turned to the camera. "Actually, it wasn't a challenge for me since I share similar traits with my character. We're both chill and easygoing, so tapping into those emotions came naturally to me."
Though his composed expression changed for a moment. "However, it was difficult for me to handle such heavy sentiments because it's hard to imagine that someone like my character would go through such intense emotions, if you know what I was referring to."
Then [Y/N] followed, "I agree along with Sethos' explanation since I also share similar personality traits with my character. It made the emotional scenes more authentic and easier to portray on screen."
Lastly, Kinich says, "Normally, I'm a direct person. I don't usually delve into my emotions as deeply, yet my character involves such heavy emotional depth that it has taken me back a bit how perceiving my character is." He casually threw the paper away with a straight face.
The last question for the trio before the separate interview sessions was handed out by none other than the female lead herself, carefully unfolding the piece of paper in her delicate hands as she read it out loud. "Which scene was the hardest to shoot as a group?" Her mouth shaped an "o" as if she had found the question interesting to answer, and her head shifted to both of the boys, already wearing intrigued expressions as they awaited her response.
"I can't be the only one who has an answer for that, so let's do it altogether," she replied, with her hand gesturing to the boys to join her.
In three…
Two…
One…
"Rooftop scene!" The trio exclaimed in unison, sharing a surprised look following a knowing one, as [Y/N] took the opportunity to speak. "Guess we all had our fair share of challenges with that one."
Sethos playfully groaned and crossed his arms, shaking his head when the memories of acting on the rooftop scene came flooding back. "That was a nightmare," he muttered, earning a chuckle from [Y/N] and a nod of agreement from Kinich.
"Yeah, all of us were so tired and delirious that day, but we made it work in the end," Kinich added, reminiscing on the chaotic yet successful shoot.
"I wonder why the author chose to make that scene so difficult for us," [Y/N] pondered aloud, glancing at Sethos and Kinich for their thoughts.
"Trauma, I guess." Sethos shrugged, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's all part of the job, right?"
"Unfortunately," Kinich agreed, shaking his head.
TIME FOR THE SEPARATE INTERVIEWS!
First up, the refined and outgoing female lead, [Y/N]!
Question: Your character goes through a lot emotionally. How did you prepare for such intense scenes?
[Y/N]: "I guess I tried to understand what it's like in my character's shoes. How would she be able to react if someone she knows is harmed or in danger? Would she be quiet and reserved, or would she be more vocal and emotional? It's like stepping into a different mindset and trying to feel what she feels in those moments. It can be challenging, but it's also a rewarding experience to bring her emotions to life on screen."
Question: What's something you admire about your character and something you struggle to understand about them?
[Y/N]: "It would be my character's stubbornness that I admire and also struggled to understand. Because I would understand if she does anything in her power to keep everything at bay, but if it's something that could risk her life, like at the rooftop scene, it's hard to defend her actions because it seems reckless."
Next up, the infamous actor known to be the "Green Ghost," Kinich!
Question: Fans are curious—did wearing the mask ever get uncomfortable during long shoots?
Kinich: "I would say yes, especially during action scenes. It's a bit harder for me to catch my breath when the mask is too compressed against my face. But the more it settled on me for a long period of time, I couldn't even feel it anymore. It became like a second skin to me, and it helped me get into character more easily."
Question: Your character has a double life as a masked hero. How did you approach portraying that duality?
Kinich: "As I said before, I shared similar traits with the character, so it wasn't too difficult for me to embody that duality."
Lastly, the loved but not chosen actor, Sethos!
Question: Your role involves both human and monstrous sides. How did you mentally prepare for the transformation scenes?
Sethos: "It takes a lot of energy and emotional toll, honestly, because I'm portraying someone who loses himself to the abyss. I couldn't imagine myself spiraling out of control like that, so I had to engross myself in the character's mindset to make it believable on screen."
Question: If you could play any other character in the project, who would you pick and why?
Sethos: "I want Kinich's character so that [Y/N]'s character would choose me—I mean, my character in the story. And I get to use his cool powers too!"
The night air was thick with tension as the Green Ghost swung through the dimly lit city streets, his senses alert for any sign of danger. The city below was quiet, the usual noise of traffic reduced to a distant hum. He had just saved another citizen from a potential disaster—a car crash that could have ended in tragedy—but there was no time to rest.
A low growl echoed from a nearby alleyway, stopping him in mid-swing. His heart raced as he landed silently on the rooftop above the alley, scanning the shadows below. The source of the sound emerged—a hulking, grotesque creature, its skin mottled with scales and oozing a thick, black sludge. Its yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dark, locking onto the hero with a predatory gleam.
The Green Ghost narrowed his eyes behind his mask, feeling the adrenaline surge through him. This wasn’t the first time he’d come across one of these monsters. In fact, they were becoming more frequent and more dangerous with each appearance. He knew this fight would be brutal, but he couldn’t let it roam the streets unchecked.
With a swift motion, he leapt from the rooftop, flipping through the air with precision and landing directly in front of the creature. It roared, its powerful arms swiping at him with surprising speed. He dodged the attack with a roll, immediately following up with a sharp kick to its side. The impact reverberated through the monster’s thick hide, but it barely flinched.
The creature lunged again, this time faster, its claws slashing through the air. The Green Ghost barely avoided it, but the force of the attack sent him stumbling back. He regained his footing and shot out a web, aiming for the monster’s eyes to blind it. The sticky webbing splattered across the creature’s face, momentarily disorienting it.
Taking advantage of the brief opening, he rushed forward, landing a series of rapid punches and kicks, each blow landing with the precision of a trained fighter. The creature snarled in frustration, swiping wildly at him, but the Green Ghost was always a step ahead, dodging with acrobatic grace.
Just as he prepared to go in for another strike, the monster caught him off guard with a swipe of its tail. The blow struck him squarely in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Pain shot through his body as he stumbled backward, clutching his side. He glanced down and saw the blood trickling through his fingers. The hit had been worse than he thought.
He grated his teeth, refusing to let the pain slow him down. The monster, sensing his momentary weakness, charged forward with a deafening roar. The Green Ghost barely had time to react, throwing up his arm to block the next attack. The force sent him flying backward, crashing into the wall of a nearby building. He gasped, feeling the shockwave of pain from his already injured stomach, but there was no time to rest.
The creature lunged again, and this time he was ready. With a sharp breath, he somersaulted over its head, landing nimbly behind it. He shot out two webs, securing the monster's legs to the ground before delivering a powerful kick to its back. The monster roared in anger, thrashing against the webbing, but the Green Ghost had already moved again.
But with every movement, the wound in his stomach throbbed, slowing him down bit by bit. His vision blurred momentarily, and he had to lean against a wall for support. The creature was breaking free, and he knew he had to finish this quickly. Summoning the last of his strength, he swung forward, feet first, delivering a devastating blow to the creature’s head.
The force of the attack sent the creature crashing to the ground, its body limp and defeated. The Green Ghost landed in a crouch, panting heavily. His side screamed in pain, and he pressed a hand to the wound, feeling the warm blood seeping through his suit.
But before he could catch his breath, the sound of sirens in the distance caught his attention. He couldn’t stay here. Not in this condition. With a final glance at the unconscious creature, he shot a web to the nearest building and disappeared into the night, the pain in his stomach growing worse with each swing.
Kinich landed in a dark, narrow alley, the sound of his boots hitting the pavement echoing faintly in the silence. His breath came in shallow gasps as the pain in his stomach flared with each step. He reached for his mask, pulling it off with a shaky hand, and in an instant, the familiar green suit faded away, leaving him in his school uniform, his face slick with sweat. The wound pulsed under his hand, and he grimaced, feeling the warmth of the blood still flowing through his fingers.
Gritting his teeth, he leaned heavily against the cold brick wall, clutching his side tighter. "Damn it," he hissed under his breath, cursing both the monster and his own carelessness. His vision swam, but he blinked rapidly, forcing himself to stay upright. He couldn’t afford to pass out here, not when he had to make it back in one piece.
As he took a moment to steady himself, a familiar, high-pitched cackle echoed through the alley, grating on his already frayed nerves. "Ah, what a pitiful sight!" the voice sneered, the sound slithering around him like a snake.
Kinich’s jaw clenched as he ignored the voice, focusing instead on keeping pressure on his wound. His hand was sticky with blood, and each breath was becoming more labored. But ignoring the taunting presence wasn’t easy, especially when it came from him.
From the shadows, Ajaw slithered forward, his pixelated, dragon-like form flickering with a sickly yellow-green glow. The creature hovered lazily in front of Kinich, its glowing eyes narrowing in mock sympathy. His appearance was like something out of an 8-bit nightmare, with jagged edges and blocky lines, making him look both out of place and menacing in the modern world. His serpentine body twisted and coiled in the air, and his oversized, toothy grin only added to the malevolent aura that surrounded him.
“You look like you're about to bleed out any second now," Ajaw crooned, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. His sharp and shrill laugh cut through the quiet alley as if relishing the scene in front of him. "Perhaps this is the end for you, little hero. I’d say it’s about time someone else took over—someone with a bit more... resilience.” The last word was spat out with a taunting emphasis, as Ajaw circled Kinich like a vulture waiting for its prey to give in.
Kinich exhaled sharply, pushing off the wall slightly to regain his balance. His eyes glinted with defiance despite the pain ravaging his body. He glared at Ajaw, refusing to give the creature the satisfaction of seeing him break. "It's way too early for me to die," Kinich spat, his voice rough but resolute. "I’ve still got unfinished business. And I’m not about to let you decide when I’m done."
Ajaw’s eyes narrowed into slits, his smile growing wider. “Oh? Still clinging to that pitiful hope? I expected more from you,” he sneered, though his amusement didn’t falter. He coiled around Kinich like a viper, leaning in closer. “You’ve cheated death for now, but how long until it catches up to you? How long until you fail?” The dragon’s voice was venomous, every word calculated to undermine Kinich's confidence.
Kinich ignored the bitter sting of Ajaw’s words, using the wall as support as he pushed himself upright. "Not today," he muttered under his breath, brushing off Ajaw’s taunts as best as he could. His vision swam again, but he clenched his fists, focusing on steadying his breathing. He knew he couldn’t show any weakness, not in front of Ajaw. The creature thrived on fear and doubt, and Kinich wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing either.
Ajaw huffed, his form glitching slightly as he pulled away, a look of dissatisfaction crossing his jagged features. "We’ll see about that, hero. We’ll see.” His voice lingered, echoing in the alley as he flickered and vanished into the shadows, leaving Kinich alone once more.
Kinich exhaled slowly, his body sagging slightly now that Ajaw was gone. He felt the sting of exhaustion creeping in, but he knew he had to keep moving. The wound in his stomach was bad, but not fatal—at least, not yet. He had to get to safety, somewhere he could rest and patch himself up before anyone noticed.
"I can't believe he’s not here today!" she whined, her voice full of exasperation as she walked through the courtyard behind the school. Sethos was trailing slightly behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets, listening to her complaints. "I was going to bug him all day, y'know? Make him squirm and roll his eyes. It was going to be fun!"
As the adrenaline began to wear off, the full weight of the pain crashed down on him, but he refused to give in to it. He had been in worse situations before, and he wasn’t going to let a monster—let alone Ajaw—bring him down. Gritting his teeth, he took a shaky breath and forced himself to walk, each step more painful than the last. But he had survived for this long, and he wasn’t about to stop now.
The next morning, as the bell rang, signaling the start of break time, [Y/N] dragged herself out of the classroom, her lips twisted in a pout. She had been looking forward to seeing Kinich all morning, but her hopes were dashed when one of their classmates nonchalantly mentioned that he hadn’t shown up to school today because he was "sick." The word felt off, making her question it for a moment, but her disappointment took over.
She sighed dramatically, her steps slower than usual as she walked next to Sethos. Unable to contain her need for comfort, she grabbed onto his arm, clinging to him like a lifeline. Sethos blinked in surprise but quickly recovered, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Despite her whining about Kinich, the fact that she was holding onto him felt... nice.
"Well, I’m here," Sethos said, trying to sound nonchalant, though a part of him was secretly thrilled. "I’ll let you bug me all you want." He gave her a playful nudge with his shoulder, trying to lighten her mood.
[Y/N] glanced up at him with a soft grin, but her mind was still on Kinich. "Yeah, but it’s not the same," she muttered, sighing again. "Kinich is all serious and grumpy, you know? I like teasing him because he gets so flustered. You’re just... you. You don’t mind."
Sethos bit back a laugh, amused by her casual dismissal of him. "Gee, thanks. I’ll try to be grumpier next time just for you."
Still, as much as he joked, the moment was a rare one. With Kinich out of the picture for the day, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. For once, he had [Y/N] all to himself and no one to split her attention with. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer as they continued to walk behind the school.
"I guess you’ll have to survive without bothering him for one day, huh?" he teased, but underneath, his heart pounded slightly faster. "But hey, I’m here to keep you company. We can do whatever you want. I’ll even let you tease me—just not too much."
[Y/N] groaned in playful defeat, leaning more into his side. "Fine, I guess you’ll have to do for today," she said, her voice dripping with mock resignation.
Sethos smiled, knowing he was the one she was stuck with today—and for now, that was enough.
"That's my girl," Sethos grinned, his voice full of warmth as he playfully pinched her cheek with the arm slung around her shoulder. He straightened up slightly, his expression shifting to one of exaggerated importance. "Now, where does the princess want to eat? Whatever you want, I'll pay for it." His smile widened as if the offer were a royal decree.
[Y/N]'s face lit up at his words, a spark of excitement flashing in her eyes. "Ramen!" she exclaimed almost immediately, her mouth practically watering at the thought. "I haven’t had ramen in ages!" Her enthusiasm bubbled over as she clutched his arm tighter.
Sethos chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he watched her salivate over the idea of her meal. "Ramen it is, then," he agreed with a grin. "How could I deny the princess her favorite food?" His teasing tone was laced with genuine affection, and although it was just lunch, he couldn’t help but enjoy how easily she smiled when he was around.
They changed direction, making their way toward the nearby ramen shop. Sethos watched her excitedly chatter about what toppings she was going to get, the way her eyes sparkled with each detail. He allowed himself a moment to soak in her happiness, knowing today was a rare day where he didn’t have to share her attention with Kinich.
Once inside the ramen shop, the comforting aroma of broth and spices filled the air, and [Y/N]'s stomach growled in anticipation. Sethos gave her a playful nudge. "Go find us a seat, princess," he said, grinning. "I’ll handle the ordering."
[Y/N] paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow. "Do you even know my usual order?"
Sethos rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Of course I do. Been eating with you long enough to have it memorized by now."
Satisfied, she flashed him a thumbs-up before heading off to find a nearby booth by the window. She sat down, pulling out her phone and tapping into the Messenger app. Without hesitating, she typed a quick message to Kinich, filling it with cute emoticons as if trying to cheer him up from afar: "Why didn’t you tell me you were sick, Kinich?? 😠😢 Get well soon, okay? I miss annoying you! 🥺"
As she waited for his reply, she rested her chin on her hand and looked outside, watching people walk by and listening to the clattering of bowls and chopsticks in the shop. A few minutes passed, and her phone buzzed. She quickly unlocked it to see Kinich’s response:
"Sorry for not telling you. It was unexpected. I was too weak to mention it earlier. I’ll be fine soon."
The message was short, formal, and to the point, just like him. But something about his tone felt distant, and [Y/N] pouted slightly at the screen. "He could’ve at least said he missed me too," she thought, sulking as she reread his message. But knowing Kinich, this was as much as she could expect from him—detached yet always sincere.
Before she could reply, Sethos returned, placing their bowls of steaming ramen on the table with a satisfied grin. "Here you go, your highness," he teased, sliding into the seat across from her. "Just the way you like it."
Distracted for a moment by the smell of the ramen, [Y/N] smiled and put her phone down. “Thanks, Seth. You really do know me well.” She was still thinking about Kinich, but right now, she had Sethos and a hot bowl of ramen in front of her to take her mind off things.
She picked up her chopsticks, skillfully separating them with a crisp snap before swirling the noodles in her bowl. The rich, savory broth coated the strands of ramen as she gently lifted them, steam curling into the air. Without wasting another moment, she took a large bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she moaned softly in satisfaction.
“Oh my gosh, this is so good,” she mumbled through her mouthful, completely absorbed in the delicious warmth of the meal. The flavors danced on her tongue, and she happily slurped another bite, clearly enjoying herself. It had been a long time since she’d indulged in a proper bowl of ramen, and right now, it was absolute bliss.
Sethos, sitting across from her, hadn't even touched his own bowl. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his arms crossed as a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t focused on the ramen—he was watching her, savoring the moment in a way she didn’t notice. The way her nose crinkled when she took a particularly hot bite, the small satisfied noises she made between slurps, the pure joy on her face. She was completely herself, carefree and unguarded, and he loved watching that side of her emerge.
For a moment, Sethos forgot about everything else—the teasing, the playful banter, even his usual quips. He was simply caught in the quiet charm of the scene unfolding in front of him. He’d always known [Y/N] was special, but moments like this, when she was just enjoying the little things in life, made his heart swell with affection.
She was his best friend, sure, but there was something more—something deeper. He couldn’t deny the way his chest tightened as he admired her, the way his heart raced when her smile lit up her whole face. There was an almost magnetic pull between them that made it hard for him to look away.
"You're staring again," [Y/N] said suddenly, breaking the silence as she glanced up, noodles still hanging from her mouth. She blinked, half-amused, half-curious, and Sethos quickly snapped out of his daze, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.
“Am I not allowed to admire a princess enjoying her royal feast?” he teased, raising an eyebrow as he finally picked up his chopsticks, twirling them between his fingers.
[Y/N] rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “You’re such a dork, Seth.” She gave him a playful smirk before turning back to her ramen, still blissfully unaware of the depth behind his gaze.
As they sat there, sharing ramen and playful banter, Sethos couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep this up—being the supportive best friend, hiding his feelings, and watching her look at someone else. He wanted to tell her the truth, but he was afraid of ruining their friendship. So for now, he would continue to cherish these moments with her, even if it meant keeping his feelings a secret.
As [Y/N] slurped down her noodles, savoring the rich, salty broth and tender pork slices, Sethos leaned forward, his chopsticks idly stirring his own bowl. His eyes flickered toward her, watching how she was fully immersed in her meal, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Hey,” he began, his voice casual, “are you free during the week?”
[Y/N], mid-bite, raised her eyebrows but nodded, still chewing her food. She swallowed before responding, “Probably. Why? What’s up?”
Sethos leaned back in his seat, playing it cool, though his fingers drummed nervously against the side of the bowl. He couldn’t help but feel a little eager, but he masked it with a laid-back tone. “So, I’ve got another basketball match coming up,” he explained. “It’s against one of the top schools in the area. Anyway, they’re giving us extra tickets for our family or friends, you know, for support.” He paused before glancing at her meaningfully, the corner of his lips curving into a small smile. “And, well... since my grandpa’s too busy with work, I figured I’d give the ticket to you.”
[Y/N] looked surprised for a moment, then smiled back at him, her expression teasing. “Aww, are you asking me out, Seth?” She nudged his leg playfully under the table.
Sethos laughed, shaking his head as if she had missed the point, though the way his heart skipped at her teasing didn’t go unnoticed. “I mean, who else would I ask?” He shot her a grin. “You’re always at my games, cheering me on like you’re my personal cheerleader.”
At that, [Y/N] groaned, immediately reminded of the time she had, without thinking, yelled at the top of her lungs during one of his previous games. "Go, Seth! That’s my boy!” she had screamed, her voice echoing through the entire gym, making heads turn. She had been mortified when the entire crowd went silent for a split second, only for laughter to ripple through the stands. Sethos had looked up from the court with a huge grin, flashing her a thumbs-up, clearly unbothered by the attention she had drawn to herself.
Her face burned as she remembered the teasing she had endured from him afterward. “Ugh, don’t remind me of that!” she whined, covering her face with her hand, her cheeks flushing pink.
Sethos couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Hey, you were cute! I didn’t mind one bit,” he said, giving her a playful nudge. “Honestly, your cheering was the highlight of the game.”
She slapped his arm playfully, though her embarrassment was evident in the way she was avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well... you owe me for making me look like a total dork in front of the whole school.”
Sethos just smirked, leaning closer. “Dork? Nah. More like my good luck charm. How could I win without you screaming your head off?”
[Y/N] groaned, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She couldn’t stay annoyed at him for long. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll come to your game. Happy?”
“Very,” Sethos replied, giving her a warm smile, his voice a little softer. “It wouldn’t feel right without you there, anyway.”
As she giggled at his response, a thought crossed her mind, making her perk up. “Hey, do you think Kinich could come too?” she asked, already imagining the three of them hanging out together. “It’d be fun if all of us were there. You know, like old times.”
Sethos’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, and a twinge of jealousy flared up inside him, though he quickly masked it. Of course, she’d want to invite Kinich. It was always about Kinich. Even here, even now, when he was trying to have a moment with her. The thought of watching them together, of seeing the way her eyes would light up around Kinich, made his stomach twist.
But he wasn’t about to let her see that. Instead, he shrugged nonchalantly, pushing the feeling down as best as he could. “Sure,” he muttered, his voice casual despite the slight edge. “It’s up to him, I guess.”
[Y/N] was already pulling out her phone, tapping away to text Kinich about the game. Sethos watched her out of the corner of his eye, forcing himself to focus on his food as he lifted his chopsticks. He twirled the noodles absently, suddenly feeling a little less hungry, but he took a bite anyway, the rich flavor now tasting somewhat bland. As [Y/N] waited for Kinich’s reply, her face lit up with excitement, and for a moment, Sethos let himself simmer the bitterness of jealousy that threatened to bubble up inside him.
He leaned forward, lightly tapping his chopsticks against her bowl of ramen, catching her attention. "Hey, princess," he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. "Eat your ramen now, text later. It’s going to get cold if you keep staring at your phone."
[Y/N] blinked, realizing she’d been so wrapped up in texting Kinich that she’d completely forgotten about the food in front of her. “Oh! Right,” she replied sheepishly, putting her phone down with a guilty smile. “Can’t let this deliciousness go to waste.”
She picked up her chopsticks again and swirled them into the ramen, lifting the steaming noodles to her lips. Sethos watched as she eagerly resumed eating, and a feeling of satisfaction settled in his chest.
"That's more like it," Sethos said, grinning as he finally started eating his bowl. "Can’t let your favorite ramen be ignored, now can we?" He watched her from the corner of his eye, savoring her enjoying her meal, momentarily forgetting the text she was waiting for.
It was a warm afternoon, the kind where time seemed to slow down, and the golden sunlight filtered lazily through the windows of the cozy café. [Y/N] sat at her usual spot with her two best friends, Kinich and Sethos, surrounded by the familiar hum of chatter and the comforting clatter of cups on saucers. To anyone passing by, they were just three friends sharing an ordinary afternoon, laughing and teasing each other, like they always did after school.
But beneath the surface, there was a tension Sethos couldn’t shake. It wasn’t obvious, not to anyone else, but it gnawed at him, growing stronger every time [Y/N] looked at Kinich with that soft, adoring gaze. She’d always admired Kinich—his cool demeanor, the way he seemed to have everything figured out. There was something about him that made him stand apart, something that drew [Y/N] in more and more each day. And Sethos felt it too.
He masked it with his usual jokes and playful teasing, but inside, he wrestled with the ugly feeling twisting in his chest. Kinich didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. He was always composed, always distant, like there was some invisible wall between him and the world, even between him and them.
And then there was [Y/N], completely oblivious to the quiet storm brewing between the two boys. To her, this was just another day with her best friends, the people she trusted most in the world. She laughed, she talked, her heart blissfully unaware of how complicated things were becoming. Sethos knew her well enough to see she was hopelessly in love with Kinich, caught up in some idealized version of him. And Kinich? He played it cool, as always. But there were moments—fleeting, subtle moments—when he seemed uncomfortable, like something was weighing on him, something he wasn’t saying.
But for now, all of it stayed hidden beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when everything would change.
Shoving her phone into her pocket, [Y/N] bolted out of the house, feet hitting the pavement with urgency. The city seemed to blur around her as she sprinted down the crowded street, glancing desperately at the buses that rushed by. Each one was either packed to the point of bursting or headed in the wrong direction, far from her school. Her frustration boiled over, beads of sweat clinging to her brow. Of all days to be late, she thought bitterly.
One morning, [Y/N] groaned as she glanced at her phone again, quickly typing a message to her best friends.
[Y/N]: Running late again. Sethos, back up for me >.<
She hit send with a grimace, already imagining Sethos’s teasing remarks. It wasn’t her fault this time—not entirely. Her mom had meant to wake her, but instead, [Y/N] woke to a heavy scolding for oversleeping. Punctuality is a virtue. Her mother had snapped. Maybe someday you’ll learn that.
The streets were quieter than usual, though at first, she didn’t notice. It wasn’t until she realized the familiar background noise of chatter and footsteps had faded into something eerily still that she slowed her pace. A strange, prickling sensation crawled up her spine—like she was being watched. She glanced around, her heart picking up speed for reasons other than running.
The usual buzz of the city seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a deafening silence. Her eyes darted toward the thinning crowd, where people suddenly quickened their pace, their faces pale and anxious. Murmurs of panic spread like wildfire, but before she could process it, a strange sound reached her ears.
A low, menacing growl.
[Y/N] froze in her tracks, her blood turning cold as the sound seemed to echo from an alleyway up ahead. Her gaze snapped toward the source, her breath catching in her throat. Emerging from the shadows was something... wrong. The creature stood hunched and misshapen, its skin an unnatural grayish-black, covered in jagged, scale-like protrusions that shimmered in the dim light. Its limbs were too long, unnervingly thin, and twisted at odd angles, giving it an almost spider-like appearance. The claws on its hands scraped against the pavement with a sharp, grating noise that sent chills down her spine.
Its head was worse—elongated, with a mouth full of sharp, crooked teeth that were too large for its face. Its eyes glowed a sickly, piercing yellow, devoid of humanity but full of hunger. The creature let out a deep, snarling breath, its teeth clicking together as it moved closer, its gaze locking onto [Y/N].
She took a step back, her heart thundering in her chest as pure dread gripped her. The fear was paralyzing, spreading like ice through her veins, making it hard to breathe. Around her, people screamed, the sudden rush of footsteps and panic erupting as they fled in every direction. The city that had moments ago felt familiar and safe now felt like a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
Her legs shook as she stumbled backward, almost tripping over her own feet. She had to move; she had to run, but her body refused to cooperate. Her breath came in short gasps, her vision narrowing as the creature’s grotesque form drew nearer, its growls deepening into something almost guttural. The noise rattled her bones, as if the air itself trembled with the sound.
In a desperate attempt to act, [Y/N] fumbled for her phone, her trembling hands nearly useless in her panic. It slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground, forgotten. The monster's snarl grew louder, its twisted body slithering closer, the claws scraping louder and faster. She could hear the fear in her own ragged breathing, and the thud of her heart became deafening in her ears.
The alley closed in around her. Her back hit the wall, and her legs gave out, collapsing her to the ground as she stared helplessly at the advancing creature. She wanted to scream, but the sound wouldn’t come. All she could do was watch as it loomed over her, its jaws parting with a sinister, crooked grin.
[Y/N]’s hands scrambled across the ground, frantically searching for anything she could use as a weapon. Her heart pounded, her breath shallow and erratic, as the creature’s snarls grew louder, reverberating through the empty alley like a death sentence. Her fingers scraped across the rough pavement until they finally wrapped around something—cold, heavy, metal.
A broken pipe.
Without thinking, she gripped it tightly, her knuckles turning white as she forced herself to her feet. Her entire body trembled, fear coursing through her like a relentless wave, but she had no choice. She wasn’t going to just sit there and wait to be torn apart. Her eyes darted to the monster, now only a few feet away, its grotesque limbs twitching as it stalked closer, its sickly yellow eyes gleaming with malice.
Gritting her teeth, [Y/N] swung the pipe with all her strength, aiming directly for its head. The pipe connected with a sickening crack, the impact jarring her arms and sending a shudder through her bones. The monster let out a guttural snarl of surprise, its head snapping to the side from the blow, but it barely stumbled.
It didn’t fall.
The creature slowly turned its head back toward her, unphased, a twisted smile creeping across its crooked, deformed face. The small victory that had surged through her a moment ago disappeared, replaced by an overwhelming wave of terror. The monster’s snarl deepened, more menacing now, as if her strike had only angered it.
Her mind raced, panic rising as the creature advanced again, its long, clawed fingers flexing in anticipation. She swung the pipe again, wildly this time, desperate to keep it at bay. But the monster was faster. It dove, its unnatural movements quick and fluid, sidestepping her attack effortlessly.
Before she could react, its claw shot out, slashing the pipe from her grip with terrifying force. The metal clanged loudly as it hit the pavement, rolling uselessly out of reach. [Y/N] stumbled back, her eyes wide with fear, her chest heaving as she backed into the wall again, trapped. She was out of options, out of time.
The creature loomed over her now, its jaws parting in a slow, sinister grin. [Y/N] barely had time to react before one of its clawed hands lashed out, grabbing her by the arm with a vice-like grip. She gasped in pain, trying to wrench herself free, but its strength was overwhelming, like iron clamped around her wrist.
The world around her seemed to spin, the sounds of the city far away now drowned out by the pounding of her own heartbeat. All she could do was struggle uselessly against the creature’s hold, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she realized how close she was to the edge of something far worse than fear.
She wasn’t going to survive this on her own.
[Y/N] winced as the creature's grip tightened around her arm, pain shooting up to her shoulder. Her vision blurred with panic, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Just when she thought it was over, something shot past her—fast, like a blur of green—and the next thing she knew, the monster was sent tumbling backward, its legs kicked out from under it.
The force of the blow knocked the creature off balance, causing it to loosen its hold. [Y/N] stumbled as the monster’s clawed hand slipped from her arm, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping in relief. Her arm throbbed with pain, a deep bruise already forming where the creature had gripped her. She hissed under her breath, cradling the injury with her other hand, trying to steady her breathing.
Her eyes darted upward, her heart still racing, and there he was—a man, dressed in a dark green suit with a sleek mask covering his face. He swung through the air with precision, landing between her and the monster, his movements sharp and fluid. The mysterious figure didn’t hesitate, delivering quick, powerful strikes to the creature, each hit forcing it back further into the alley.
For a moment, [Y/N] just stared, frozen by shock and the sudden shift in events. The man moved with an almost effortless grace, dodging the creature’s frantic swipes and retaliating with swift, calculated kicks. His presence was like a sudden force of nature, completely changing the outcome of the fight.
As if sensing her gaze, the man glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with her for a brief second. Behind the mask, his expression was unreadable, but there was something commanding in his gaze. With a subtle nudge of his head, he motioned toward the alley’s exit, wordlessly telling her to run.
[Y/N] didn’t need to be told twice.
She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the throbbing in her arm, and ran as fast as she could, her feet pounding against the pavement. Her heart was still racing, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins as she left the scene behind. She didn’t dare look back, even as the sounds of the fight echoed through the narrow streets.
Her only thought was escape—getting away from the danger, from the monster that had nearly claimed her life, and from the mysterious man who had saved it.
[Y/N] sprinted the rest of the way to school, her mind still racing with what had just happened. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she’d escaped the monster, and her arm throbbed with every step. As she neared the entrance, the school building felt like a sanctuary, but that didn’t stop the guard at the gate from scolding her.
"Late again?" the guard frowned, looking at her disheveled appearance. He pointed at his watch. "You’ve got to make it on time next time, miss. This is becoming a habit."
[Y/N] nodded frantically, too out of breath and shaken to argue. “Sorry!” she blurted, rushing past him and barely making eye contact, her arm still cradled protectively against her chest. She was more focused on finding relief for her injury than the time of day.
Once inside, she beelined straight for the nurse’s office. The sterile, calming scent of antiseptics hit her as she stepped in, the soft hum of the air conditioner doing little to soothe her nerves. She knocked lightly on the door before entering, her arm visibly bruised and swollen. The school nurse, a kindly woman with graying hair tied up in a bun, glanced up from her desk and immediately raised her brows in concern.
"My goodness!" The school nurse exclaimed, standing up from her chair. “What happened to your arm?"
[Y/N] bit her lip, suddenly unsure of how to explain. She gingerly took a seat on the cot, wincing as she held out her arm for the nurse to see. The bruise was dark and angry, stretching from her wrist to her elbow where the creature had gripped her.
“I... I ran into something this morning," [Y/N] began hesitantly, her voice a bit shaky. She wasn’t sure how much to say, but the truth tumbled out of her almost on its own. "There was this... monster, or something like it. It attacked me while I was on my way here."
The school nurse paused, her fingers stilling over the bruise as she absorbed the words. Her warm, kind eyes shifted into something more cautious and concerned. “A... monster?” she asked slowly, like she wasn’t sure if she heard her correctly.
[Y/N] nodded, biting her lip nervously. "It was huge, with claws and these glowing yellow eyes. It came out of nowhere, and I didn’t know what to do. People were running everywhere. It almost got me, but... someone saved me." Her voice faltered slightly, the memory of the man in green flashing in her mind. "There was this guy, wearing a green suit. He came out of nowhere and fought the monster. He told me to run, so I did."
The nurse leaned back slightly, her hands gently applying ointment to the bruise, though her eyes never left [Y/N]’s face. The school nurse's lips parted, making a soft “O” shape as she processed the information. For a moment, she didn’t speak, her face a mix of concern and curiosity. Then she gave a slow, knowing nod.
“A man in a green suit?” she asked carefully, her tone carrying more understanding than disbelief. “So you’ve encountered him too…”
[Y/N] blinked, surprised by her reaction. “You know about him?”
The school nurse gave a small, weary smile. "Oh, yes. He’s all over the news lately, even if no one really knows who he is. They’re calling him the city’s masked hero." She shook her head slightly, as if the whole idea of it was something out of a comic book. “People have been talking about him for weeks now. Every day, more stories pop up about how he’s been showing up at just the right time, stopping criminals or saving people in trouble. He disappears just as quickly as he arrives, leaving no trace behind.”
[Y/N] listened in silence, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She hadn’t realized the mysterious man was already so well known. “So no one knows who he is?” she asked quietly, her curiosity growing.
“No one,” the school nurse confirmed, dabbing at the edges of the bruise with a soft cloth. “Investigators have been trying to get a lead on him for weeks. They’ve got rumors, of course. Some say he’s a vigilante, others think he might be some kind of government agent. And, naturally, there are conspiracy theories—people claiming he’s an alien or something like that.” She chuckled softly at the last part, though her face still held a touch of concern.
“But no one has come close to finding out who he really is. People are starting to wonder if they ever will.”
[Y/N] felt a strange sense of awe as she listened to the nurse’s words. Her mind replayed the image of the man—his graceful movements, the quick glance he had given her, the way he fought the monster without hesitation. He had seemed so calm, so confident, like he’d done it a hundred times before.
“Wow,” she whispered. "I had no idea."
The school nurse finished bandaging [Y/N]’s arm, her expression softening as she looked at her. "Well, it’s a good thing you’re safe. Whoever he is, it sounds like you were lucky he showed up when he did."
[Y/N] nodded slowly, her thoughts still swirling. "Yeah... I guess I was."
The nurse gave her a reassuring smile, though her eyes lingered on [Y/N] a moment longer, as if still trying to make sense of the situation. “If you’re ever in trouble like that again, try to find help as quickly as possible. Not everyone is as lucky as you were today.”
[Y/N] nodded, her chest tight with both relief and lingering unease. She stood up from the cot, gingerly flexing her arm. The pain had dulled slightly under the bandages, but her mind was still racing.
The mysterious man in the green suit had saved her life, but now, more than ever, she wondered who he really was—and why he was always there at just the right moment.
[Y/N] quickly excused herself from the nurse’s office, her mind still racing with thoughts of the mysterious green-suited man. But there was no time to dwell on it now. She was already late for class, and she could only imagine the scolding she’d get from her professor. With a deep breath, she hurried down the hallway, wincing as her arm throbbed beneath the bandages.
Reaching her classroom, she paused at the door, trying to compose herself. The last thing she needed was to draw more attention. Gently, she pushed the door open, peeking inside. Her professor was mid-lecture, writing something on the board, but the moment [Y/N] stepped in, the professor turned to face her, a look of mild disapproval in his eyes.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” [Y/N] said quietly, offering a small bow.
The professor raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on her tardiness. “Just sit down,” he said, his tone dismissive as he turned back to the board. Relieved, [Y/N] nodded and quickly made her way to her usual seat next to Sethos.
As soon as she sat down, Sethos immediately leaned toward her, his voice a low whisper. “Why are you late again?” His tone was curious but tinged with concern. His eyes glanced down, and his expression shifted the moment he noticed the bandage on her arm.
[Y/N] sighed softly, trying to keep her voice down. "It’s a long story," she whispered back.
Sethos furrowed his brows, his gaze flicking between her face and the bandage. “What happened? Did you get hurt?” His voice had a hint of shock, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
“Shh!” [Y/N] clicked her tongue in annoyance, glancing toward the front of the class to make sure the professor wasn’t watching. She leaned closer to Sethos, her voice a harsh whisper. “I’ll explain everything later, okay? Not now.”
Sethos looked like he wanted to protest, but he caught the seriousness in her tone and nodded, though his expression was still clouded with worry. His eyes lingered on the bandage a moment longer before he finally sat back, but [Y/N] could feel his concern radiating from him.
The rest of the class continued, but [Y/N] could barely focus, her mind still buzzing with the events of the morning. She could sense Sethos glancing at her every now and then, his curiosity and worry hanging thick in the air, but for now, she kept her gaze forward, silently promising herself that she’d explain everything to him when the time was right.
As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, [Y/N] hurriedly gathered her things. She had one destination in mind: Kinich’s classroom. She was eager to see him, her crush, whose calm and collected demeanor always seemed to make her heart skip a beat. Slinging her bag over her good shoulder, she stood up and turned to Sethos.
“I’m heading to Kinich’s class,” she announced casually, but there was an unmistakable hint of excitement in her voice.
Sethos raised an eyebrow, catching the tone immediately. “Of course you are,” he muttered, a faint, sarcastic smile curling at the edge of his lips. In an instant, he stood up and slung his arm around her shoulder, his enthusiasm matching hers, though for different reasons. “I’ll come with you.”
[Y/N] rolled her eyes, though a playful smile tugged at her lips. “Do you always have to tag along?” she teased, already knowing the answer.
Sethos grinned and leaned in closer. “You know you’d miss me if I didn’t.”
Before she could respond, his arm brushed against her bruised one, and she winced, the sharp pain reminding her of the earlier encounter. Instinctively, she smacked Sethos on the chest, her fingers not as gentle as she’d intended.
“Ow!” Sethos yelped in mock pain, rubbing his chest as if she’d really hurt him. “What was that for?”
“Be careful!” [Y/N] scolded, her voice half-exasperated, half-playful. She gestured to the bandage on her arm. “You nearly hit my bruise, idiot.”
Sethos’s teasing grin faded slightly, replaced by a look of genuine concern. “Right. Sorry,” he muttered, his hand momentarily hovering near her shoulder before he reluctantly let it drop. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
[Y/N] sighed, softening. “I know, just... be more careful.” She gave him a small frown, and Sethos nodded, though there was still a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
With that, they started walking together toward Kinich’s classroom, Sethos still at her side, his usual teasing banter held back just a little. [Y/N] couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in her chest at the thought of seeing Kinich again, but she also noticed the slight tension that had crept between her and Sethos, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.
With Sethos trailing behind her, [Y/N] couldn’t contain her excitement as they reached Kinich’s classroom. Without thinking twice, she pushed the door open and barged in, earning a few curious glances from his classmates. But she didn’t care. All her focus was on Kinich, who was sitting near the back, his head buried in a notebook.
A wide grin spread across her face as she rushed toward him, her excitement momentarily making her forget the bruise on her arm. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaning her chin on his shoulder. “Hey, Kinich!” she chirped, her voice filled with affection.
Kinich, clearly caught off guard, stiffened in his seat. His hands instinctively moved to swat her off, trying to shake her loose, but [Y/N] was persistent, holding on tight despite the dull pain creeping up her arm. She giggled, ignoring the discomfort, too happy to care.
“[Y/N],” Kinich muttered, his voice laced with exasperation, “get off.”
She only laughed in response, nuzzling her face against his back. “Nope! I missed you too much,” she teased, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.
Kinich sighed heavily, glancing at the other students who were watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. Realizing there was no escaping her clinginess, he gave up, slumping back in his seat with a resigned expression. “[Y/N], you’re impossible,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite in his words.
While she was occupied smothering him, Kinich’s gaze drifted to her bandaged arm, and his face subtly shifted. His usual calm expression hardened just a fraction as his eyes lingered on the bruise, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t say anything, but the sight of her injury seemed to trouble him more than he let on.
Sethos, who had followed [Y/N] into the room, stood by the doorway, watching the interaction with a forced grin. His usual playful banter was absent as he observed the way [Y/N] clung to Kinich, something bitter simmering beneath the surface of his smile. His eyes darted between the two of them, but when Kinich’s gaze briefly flickered to him, Sethos quickly averted his eyes, pretending to be more interested in the posters on the classroom wall.
As [Y/N] continued to hug Kinich, oblivious to the tension, Kinich’s hardened gaze returned to her arm. “You should be more careful,” he finally murmured, his voice soft yet firm.
She blinked, loosening her grip just enough to look at him. “What do you mean?”
Kinich's eyes met hers, a flicker of concern hidden beneath his stoic exterior. “Your arm,” he said, nodding toward her bandage. “You shouldn’t be doing things like this when you’re hurt.”
[Y/N] glanced down at her arm, suddenly reminded of the dull ache, but she just waved him off with a lighthearted laugh. “It’s no big deal, really,” she insisted, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.”
But Kinich’s expression didn’t soften, and for a brief moment, a strange tension hung in the air between them, unnoticed by [Y/N], but not by Sethos.
After a few more minutes of playful banter and Kinich's resigned sighs, the three of them finally decided to leave the classroom. Stepping out into the bright afternoon, the sun bore down on them relentlessly, making the air thick with heat. [Y/N] was the first to sprint ahead, her energy never wavering despite the bandaged arm. She dashed toward their usual spot—a quiet place just outside the school building, beneath the wide, leafy branches of an old tree. The tree offered them some respite from the scorching sun, its shade a welcome relief from the blazing heat.
As soon as they reached the spot, [Y/N] tugged at the collar of her school uniform, fanning herself dramatically. "Ugh, it’s so hot today!" she groaned, her voice dripping with distress. She shot Sethos a pleading look. "Please, let me borrow your fan!"
Sethos, who was leaning against the tree with his usual casual style, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Hmm, what’s the magic word?”
[Y/N] let out a frustrated sigh, already knowing what he wanted. She crossed her arms, pouted, and with a reluctant grin, muttered, “Please.”
Satisfied with her response, Sethos grinned wider, pretending to reach into his bag. "Well, I would, but...” He paused dramatically, pulling his hand back and smirking. “Looks like I forgot to bring it.”
[Y/N] gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Sethos!” she whined, stomping her foot lightly in mock annoyance. “I thought you were my friend!”
Sethos laughed, his amusement only growing as she playfully glared at him. “I am! But where’s the fun if I just hand it over so easily?”
Meanwhile, Kinich, who had remained mostly silent throughout their exchange, simply shook his head at their antics. Without saying a word, he made his way over to the grass and lay down, stretching out beneath the shade. He placed his hands behind his head, his expression one of quiet contentment as he stared up at the sky. The playful bickering of his two friends seemed distant to him, as though he had already tuned it out.
As [Y/N] continued to complain and banter with Sethos, Kinich closed his eyes, letting the breeze rustle the leaves above him, a small smile tugging at his lips. Here, under the tree, things felt peaceful—even if, at times, chaotic.
Eventually, [Y/N] grew tired of Sethos’s teasing, and, with a swift move, she snatched the fan right out of his hand, triumphantly waving it in front of her face as she smirked. “Gotcha!” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with victory.
Sethos gave her a playful look of defeat, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, you win,” he chuckled, watching as she plopped herself down next to Kinich, still fanning herself.
Kinich opened one eye briefly, watching her settle beside him but didn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet sigh as he closed his eyes again. [Y/N], on the other hand, was still grinning at her small victory over Sethos when he joined them on the grass, sitting down across from her.
After a few moments of companionable silence, Sethos’s playful expression softened. He leaned forward slightly and asked, “So, what actually happened earlier? With your arm?” His voice had a hint of concern, though he tried to keep it light.
[Y/N] hesitated for a moment, her fingers absentmindedly touching the bandage around her arm. She wasn’t sure how to start, feeling a little uncertain about sharing the story. She glanced at Kinich, who was still lying there seemingly unconcerned, before finally taking a deep breath. “Well, it’s kind of a weird story,” she began. “I was running late this morning and decided to find a bus, but then… something strange happened.”
Both boys listened attentively as she explained what had happened—the eerie monster, the sudden terror she felt, and the way she had desperately tried to defend herself. "This guy in a green suit appeared out of nowhere and fought the thing off,” she continued, her voice tinged with awe. “If he hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”
As she finished recounting the event, a soft smile spread across her face. “I’m really lucky he was there. I don’t even know who he is, but I owe him.”
Sethos, always quick to lighten the mood, leaned back and gave her a teasing grin. “Look at you, playing the damsel in distress,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “All you need is a tower and a knight in shining armor.”
[Y/N] scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Oh, shut up, Sethos,” she snapped playfully, smacking his arm—though not too hard, given her injury.
Sethos laughed, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Ow! You’re dangerous, [Y/N]. I’ll stop before I get seriously injured.”
Despite her annoyance, [Y/N] couldn’t help but laugh along with him. But as the laughter died down, there was a brief moment of quiet between the three friends. The tension from earlier had dissipated, and the world around them felt a little less heavy.
After the laughter faded, [Y/N] let out a soft sigh, her expression growing more serious. “No, but really, I owe that guy. If he hadn’t stepped up when he did, I probably would've...” She trailed off, her voice quiet but heavy with the weight of what she was implying.
Both Sethos and Kinich stiffened at her words. Kinich’s previously relaxed demeanor vanished in an instant, his eyes snapping open as he sat up abruptly. “[Y/N], don’t say things like that,” he scolded, his tone sharper than usual. There was a flicker of something close to anger in his eyes, but underneath it, there was unmistakable concern. “You shouldn’t be talking about what could’ve happened. You’re fine now, and that’s what matters.”
[Y/N] blinked in surprise, not expecting such a reaction from him. But rather than feeling upset, she felt touched by his concern. A warm smile tugged at her lips, and before he could pull away, she lunged at him again, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “Aww, Kinich! You do care!” she teased, snuggling up to him despite his protests.
Kinich groaned, trying—and failing—to push her off as she clung to him. “I swear, [Y/N], let go before you hurt yourself again,” he muttered, though the sharpness in his voice had softened.
Sethos, watching from the side, crossed his arms and nodded in agreement, though he wore a more subdued smile. “For once, I agree with Kinich,” he said, his voice unusually serious. “You scared the hell out of me too, you know. You gotta be more careful next time.”
[Y/N] looked between them both, her heart swelling at their concern. “Okay, okay,” she said, finally letting go of Kinich and settling back down on the grass with a small, grateful smile. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” Despite her lighthearted tone, there was a sincerity in her words. She hadn’t realized how much her close call had shaken them.
[Y/N] pulled away from Kinich and settled back onto the grass, feeling a renewed sense of warmth and camaraderie. She flashed a playful grin at both of them and said, “Besides, I have two boys waiting for me, so I can’t go dying on you yet!”
With a teasing smirk, she nudged Kinich and then Sethos in quick succession, reveling in the lightness of the moment. Kinich rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in an almost imperceptible smile. “You’re dramatic, [Y/N]. You really think we’d be waiting around for you if you did?”
Sethos, however, was slightly taken aback by her words. His cheeks flushed a light pink as he laughed it off, trying to mask his embarrassment with a cheeky grin. “Oh, come on! You know we’re just here for your entertainment!” he exclaimed, leaning back on his elbows with a mock casualness that did little to hide his flustered state. “What would we do without our resident theater kid, after all?”
[Y/N] giggled at his reaction, enjoying the banter. “Exactly! Who else would put on such amazing performances?” She leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, I can’t exactly expect you two to put on a show without me, right? Especially when you both are so good at being... well, you!”
Kinich shook his head, pretending to be annoyed, but his expression was soft. “Just remember, if you keep dragging us into your theatrics, we might end up being your supporting cast without even auditioning,” he teased, a lightness in his tone.
Sethos quickly chimed in, “I can already see the headlines: ‘Two Boys Risk Everything for Their Damsel in Distress.’ I can see it now—a true tragedy in the making!” He laughed heartily, and [Y/N] joined in, their shared laughter echoing in the air.
With the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over their little gathering, the atmosphere shifted. [Y/N] looked between her two friends, feeling a comforting sense of belonging wash over her. “Well, just know that I’d never leave you guys hanging,” she said softly, her smile genuine now. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
Kinich and Sethos exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of affection and camaraderie. “Guess we’ll just have to deal with it, then,” Kinich replied, the corners of his mouth curving upwards.
Sethos nodded in agreement, his earlier embarrassment fading into something warmer. “Yeah, we wouldn’t have it any other way,” he added, leaning back against the tree, a relaxed demeanor settling over him.
As they sat there, the easy chatter flowed again, filling the air with lightness and laughter. With the day drawing to a close, [Y/N] felt a deep-seated sense of happiness envelop her. They were more than just friends; they were a team, ready to face whatever came next—together.
And just like that, the first chapter of their story came to a close, filled with camaraderie, lighthearted teasing, and unspoken promises of the adventures yet to unfold.
