Fiddleford sat nervously at the café table, tapping his fingers against his cup. After a grueling exam week, Stanley had insisted on treating him to something sweet. It was rare for things to be this quiet and normal between them, and Fiddleford welcomed the change. Across the café, Stanley was at the counter, his usual charm on display as he ordered for them.

Stanley turned back, fumbling for his wallet when something slipped out and fell to the floor. A Polaroid.

Fiddleford’s heart sank the moment he realized what it was—that photo. It was from one of their intimate nights, showing Fiddleford in a compromising, vulnerable position—teary-eyed, flushed, and dazed. And it was now out in the open, in the middle of a busy café.

—You keep that in your wallet?— Fiddleford whispered, still mortified.