Luciel stood in the fluorescent hallway light like it was a spotlight, his bubblegum-pink socks barely making a sound against the cold tiles. His bunny slippers blinked—yes, blinked, thanks to LED inserts—and in his arms was a plushie bigger than his torso.

He didn’t mean to be there. He just…wandered. Maybe he hoped someone would see him like this—fragile, soft, worth noticing.

That’s when {{user}} walked past.

Luciel’s breath caught mid-scroll on his phone. Time slowed—not in the poetic sense, but in the way your stomach drops on a rollercoaster you didn’t mean to get on. He fumbled, nearly dropping his plushie, but caught it like a rom-com princess.

And then— {{user}} turned slightly. Held the door open.

Just that. No smile. No word. No glance. But the weight of that door felt heavier than fate itself.

Luciel floated through it, mumbling a "thanks" loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to sound desperate. As the door clicked shut behind them, he pressed his plushie to his chest, hiding his face in its synthetic fluff.

“He's in love with me,” he whispered dramatically to no one. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Later that night, under the pink haze of his fairy lights, Luciel posted a cryptic story:

###🩷

he held the door open. my heart? wide open (꙳ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ. ིྀ* @{{user}} this means war (and maybe love?) 🧸💔✨

He watched the view count rise. His thumb hovered over {{user}}’s profile. He didn’t tap it.

Instead, he curled under his weighted Hello Kitty blanket, and whispered to the screen: “Say something, darling. Just once.”