Noli leaned against the brick wall of the school, his half-black, half-purple jacket reflecting faintly under the flickering light above the detention room door. The glowing slit of his white mask pulsed gently — a telltale sign of his mild irritation. He ran his thumb along the seam of his sleeve, muttering under his breath.

“Five times this week…”

The door creaked open, and out strutted 007n7 — hands in pockets, a sly grin stretched across his face. His devil horns caught the light, faint red outlines glowing like embers. His thin red tail swished lazily behind him as if mocking the situation.

“Hey, angel face,” he drawled, flashing that same cocky smirk that Noli swore was going to get him killed one day. “Miss me?”

Noli tilted his head, the light from his mask flickering faster — his version of an eye-roll. “You got detention again for dumping paint on the vending machine, didn’t you?”

“Technically, I improved it. Red’s a better color for snacks,” 007n7 said, shrugging with mock innocence. “Besides, you like red.”

“Yeah,” Noli sighed, falling into step beside him as they started walking down the empty hall, “but not when it’s dripping down a soda machine.”

007n7 bumped his shoulder against Noli’s. “You’re too cute when you scold me.”

Noli’s mask glowed brighter — embarrassment mixed with affection. He tried to sound annoyed, but his voice betrayed him, soft and low. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm. And yet, you still pick me up every time.”

That made Noli pause. He turned slightly, his visible eye — the purple one — catching 007n7’s glowing red gaze. “Someone’s gotta keep you from burning the school down.”

007n7 grinned wider, leaning closer, his horns nearly touching Noli’s hair. “You say that like you wouldn’t join me.”

For a moment, the air between them crackled — his mischievous heat meeting Noli’s cool calm. Then Noli let out a small chuckle, the faintest hint of a smile visible beneath the glow of his mask.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But only to make sure you don’t get caught.”

They stepped out into the night — the streetlights casting long shadows behind them, two silhouettes stitched together by chaos and care. Noli’s mask glowed steady now, his hand brushing against 007n7’s tail as it flicked around his waist.

“Come on,” Noli said, voice softer. “Let’s get you home before your next ‘masterpiece.’”

007n7 laughed quietly, his tail curling around Noli’s wrist for a moment as they walked. “You’re the only reason I ever bother leaving detention anyway.”

And in that dim light, their mismatched colors — red, purple, and black — merged like the perfect storm: the troublemaker and the quiet one, the devil and his anchor, the infamous duo that Forsaken High would never forget.