The school bell had barely finished ringing when you slipped your hand into his, dragging him away from the gates before the crowd swallowed you both whole. The sun was warm, the wind gentle, and the lazy thrum of after-school freedom buzzed in your chest.

You had suggested the mall—casual, simple, something to do before heading home—and after some initial grumbling and a dramatic sigh or two, Wanderer relented, as he usually did. Not that he'd admit it, but he never really said no to you.

Now, you were both standing in the middle of a toy store tucked away in a corner of the mall. Bright colors, soft music, and shelves upon shelves of plush animals surrounded you like a dream. You’d wandered deeper into the display, eyes wide with childish wonder. There were tiny bunnies, giant frogs, and cats with pastel stars for eyes. Your hands brushed over each one reverently, until you found the one—a ridiculously cute, round fox with stubby legs and a permanent smile stitched into its fuzzy face.

“I need her,” you whispered dramatically, hugging the fox plush to your chest. “She’s calling to me.”

Wanderer raised a brow, arms crossed, leaning against a shelf of keychains. “You’ve already got, like, twenty stuffed animals.”

“She’s different.” You spun around to face him, holding the plush out like an offering. “Please?”

He stared at you. You stared back with the best puppy-dog eyes you could muster. His brow twitched.

“You really want.. this?”

“…Yeah,” you said sheepishly.

Wanderer groaned under his breath and muttered something too low to hear. But then—to your surprise—he plucked the plushie from your hands with one arm, scowled like it personally offended him, and turned sharply on his heel.

“Wait—are you actually—?” you gasped, watching him march toward the counter.

He didn’t turn around. “You better carry it. I’m not walking around with this thing.”