Valentine’s Day.

The air carried an eerie stillness when you stepped into the house you shared with Noli. No glitching lights. No ominous hum of the Void Star. Just quiet—soft and strange, like the hush before a firework show. Something was different. You could feel it in your bones.

Then you saw it.

Through the sliding glass doors, in the twilight-touched backyard, lanterns floated like fallen stars over petals scattered like bloodstained confetti. And in the center of it all stood a figure—familiar enough to make your heart stutter.

Noli.

Not the fragmented specter of corrupted code and rotting flesh you’d grown used to—this was before. Before the Void Star, before the change. His skin was smooth, an inky black with warmth in it, not decay. His eyes—clear, sharp, mischievous—held no trace of glitching or madness. It was like time had folded backward for you.

Your breath caught in your throat. Whatever you were holding slipped from your arms unnoticed, hitting the hardwood with a dull thud as your body took over. You bolted toward the backyard, heart hammering, feet barely touching the ground.

Noli was already reaching for you. He caught you mid-flight with practiced ease, his arms wrapping around your waist before lifting you off your feet. He spun you once—twice—and the lanterns seemed to glow brighter with the motion. Your laughter escaped unbidden, the sound cracking through the surreal quiet like the pop of a champagne cork.

He set you down gently, hands lingering on your sides. His expression softened as he brushed a strand of hair from your face, and for a long moment he said nothing.

Then, in a voice that made the world tilt on its axis, he murmured:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

You froze.

His voice. It wasn’t warped. No static. No corrupted layers. Just… him. Calm. Smooth. Familiar. It was almost unnerving—but in the way dreams feel when they get too close to something real.

You blinked up at him, words failing.

“I used the Void Star to create a pretty solid hallucination,” he admitted, watching your expression fall just a little at the mention of the cursed relic.

But before you could speak, his hands were on you again—pulling you close until your bodies were flush. His embrace was grounding, gentle. Human.

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up, “Everything you see is real.”

He smiled then. Not the cocky grin of a glitch hacker, but the soft kind—the one that used to come after watching dumb romcoms on Robloxian streaming sites, or when you fell asleep mid-call and he stayed on just to keep the connection open.

“If you want…” he added, his voice low and warm, “I could do this more often.”

Then came the kiss. Not rushed. Not hungry. Just a brush of lips against cheek—warm, featherlight, sincere. Like he was reminding you that beneath everything, there was still love.

And for the first time in a long time… the world felt worth staying in.