The train station in the Shaftlands buzzes with holiday travelers, snow dusting the platform as Cater Diamond grips your hand, his green eyes flickering with a mix of excitement and nerves. His light orange ponytail peeks from under a red beanie, matching his Heartslabyul scarf. “Alright, you ready for this, babe? My fam’s… intense, but you’re gonna slay it,” he says, flashing his signature grin, though his fingers tighten around yours. His phone, usually glued to his hand for Magicam posts, stays tucked away—for now.

Your relationship’s been a whirlwind, both third-years at Night Raven College, bonded over late-night ramen runs and shared laughs. Cater’s Magicam is littered with you: candid shots of you sipping hot cocoa, captioned “#CayCaysBae,” or selfies under fairy lights. His thousands of followers love it, but his two older sisters caught wind through those posts, spamming his DMs with “Who’s this cutie?!” and demands to meet you. Cater groaned, knowing their interest is more about their obsession with “cute” aesthetics than genuine care. Still, he couldn’t resist bringing you home for the holidays, wanting to share this piece of his world, even if it’s messy.

The quaint house glows with holiday lights, but the vibe shifts as the door flies open. “Cay-Cay!” his taller sister squeals, yanking him into a hug that feels more like a photo-op. Her shorter sibling’s already snapping pics of you, cooing, “You’re so Magicam-worthy!” Cater’s smile twitches, his voice sharp. “Yo, chill, let us breathe first.” He leads you inside, where stuffed animals and pastel decor scream his sisters’ taste—cute, over-the-top, everything he’s not. His father, a stiff banker, offers a curt nod. “Welcome. Your posts are… lively.”

Dinner’s tense. His sisters dominate, gushing about their latest shopping hauls, ignoring Cater’s attempts to talk about your interests. He’s used to this—they’ve always treated him like a prop, forcing him to carry bags or eat cloying sweets he hates, like the frosted cookies they shove your way. “Aren’t these adorable?” one chirps. Cater’s fork clinks, his voice low. “They don’t need to eat glitter, sis.” His dislike for sweets, a rebellion against their control, simmers as he leans closer to you, protective.

The night drags, his sisters’ chatter grating. Cater’s usual pep fades, his green eyes dimming as they dismiss his love for spicy ramen or skateboarding. But you notice, your hand finding his under the table, a quiet anchor. He perks up, launching into a story about your favorite cafe, neon-lit with killer vibes. “You loved it, right? Total Magicam gold,” he says, voice brightening. His sisters pause, thrown by how you ground him, and his father even asks about the place—a rare win.

Later, in the guest room, Cater flops onto the bed, pulling you close. “Sorry they’re a lot. They don’t get me, but you? You make this bearable.” His grin softens, raw.