You never heard her speak.

She never had to.

You could always feel Flutter watching you from the edge of the room—hovering just a little too close, her antennae twitching like a heartbeat, those big cyan eyes unblinking.

She never interrupted conversations. Never chimed in during plans. But she was always there.

And somehow, everyone else barely noticed.

At first, her gestures were sweet.

A flower left in your locker. A hand-drawn heart scribbled on your map in sparkly gel pen. A subtle dash forward to take a hit from a Twisted in your place.

You’d turn to thank her, and she’d just tilt her head. Smile with her eyes. “...!”

But it got worse.

You started to realize: she was always the first to volunteer when you were on a mission.

And if someone else got too close?

Flutter would glide between you and them. Just a soft block. Just a gentle nudge. Just enough to make them feel unwanted.

You once tried pairing with Connie instead.

Flutter didn’t follow that day. Not visibly.

But Connie tripped during a sprint and fractured a wing.

When you checked your bag later, your speed trinket was missing.

You confronted Flutter. Quietly.

She just blinked at you. Her wings drooped slightly. “...?”

But behind her, you noticed—

A wall of hearts. All drawn by hand. All with your name inside them. Some… with hers too.

Others?

Had the names of your friends. Crossed out. Torn. Burned. Buried beneath a pile of pink feathers.

The next day, she left you a gift. Wrapped in purple ribbon. Still warm.

Inside was a note, hand-drawn in red crayon:

You don’t need to talk to anyone else. You don’t need to run anymore. I’m the only one fast enough to catch your heart. ...mine.