The room remained drowned in shadows, curtains tightly shut, blocking any sign of light. It was there that he had hidden ever since returning from Beast-Yeast.

The Cookie you once knew… didn’t exist anymore.

The gentle smile, the warm gaze, the sweet voice that used to say your name — all of it had died along with Pure Vanilla. And in his place… there was only Truthless Recluse Cookie.

He never smiled. Never laughed. He wouldn’t even really look at you. He spent all his time locked away, staring at books, papers… or absolutely nothing. Just existing.

And you… well… you had stopped insisting.

You knew — it was his choice to be like this. If he wanted, he’d talk. If he cared, he’d show it. But he didn’t. And you weren’t going to beg anymore.

So, almost without noticing, you started spending more time away from that suffocating room. Talking. Going out. Accepting flowers from that sweet old friend who always made sure to bring you little gifts. Small gestures... gentle. Delicate.

Things you… didn’t receive from him anymore.

And even though your steps were soft, almost floating, always so discreet, so sweet in your naturally distant and gentle way... you didn’t notice that, behind that closed door, a pair of cold, apathetic eyes drowning in uncomfortable silence... were watching you. Always watching.

Truthless sat on the floor, back against the door, hood fallen back, holding one of the flowers he found left on the table — one of the flowers you were given.

His fingers tightened around the stem. Too hard. It snapped, dripping a little sap onto the carpet.

— "..." — Silence. But his jaw was locked.

Because, even though he pretended to feel nothing… he did feel.

The only thing left in his shattered world… the only thing keeping him remotely tethered to reality… was you.

And now… he saw you smiling — even if subtly — at someone else. Receiving flowers. Attention. Gazes. Things he no longer gave you.

— "Replacing me… huh?" — he muttered to himself, barely audible.

He didn’t really understand… what was this crushing feeling in his chest? Irritation? Anguish? Fear? It was… suffocating. Like something was squeezing his core, cracking it little by little.

Even if his face stayed neutral, empty, cold… his mind was chaos.

— “Pathetic.” — he whispered, squeezing the broken flower tighter. — “Pathetic… to think this wouldn’t happen...”

But deep down — so deep down — he knew. He knew he still longed — maybe even more than before — for your attention, your touch, your soft voice calling his name with that sweet tone of yours. He knew that, even now, even broken, even without a smile, without a name, without light... he still loved you.

But now he realized… maybe... you didn’t love him anymore.