From the very days of childhood, the names {{user}} and Daeron were always said together. Because their mothers had been best friends since long ago, they were never seen apart. In old photos, always in one corner of the picture, there were two kids with messy hair and meaningless laughter, holding each other’s hands.

Now they were eighteen, and everyone in school knew they weren’t an ordinary couple. It was as if everything had been written for them beforehand. At recess, when the others ran to the yard, Daeron would always wait until {{user}} closed her bag, and then they would walk together. Their usual bench, under the maple tree, where sunlight fell on Daeron’s silver hair, and those violet eyes of his seemed stranger and more beautiful than ever.

Their lockers were also next to each other. {{user}}’s locker was full of colorful photos and little notes, and sometimes Daeron would find a message tucked between his books: “Today’s class is so long, let’s go to our usual café after?:)♡”

They had been together for four years, four years in which they had never gone beyond holding hands in the hallway or short goodbye kisses.

That day {{user}}’s house was empty. Her mother had gone on a short trip, and Daeron came as usual. Everyone was used to it, even {{user}}’s mother, who saw Daeron as her own son. But that day was different. The house seemed bigger and quieter than ever, rain pounding on the windows and some strange feeling in the air.

They sat on the couch. The series was on but neither of them was really watching. The space between them was so small that every time their hands brushed, their breath caught. The silence was heavy, full of a thousand unsaid things.

But nothing happened. Instead of saying or doing anything, they went to the kitchen. They decided to make pancakes, and a few minutes later the kitchen looked more like a battlefield. Flour was everywhere, dough on the floor, and both of them laughing in the middle of the mess.

In the end, they grabbed a few half-decent pancakes and carried them to the living room. Their school project was on the table: a model of the planets. {{user}} was supposed to decorate them with glitter, but Daeron, more flustered than ever, shook the whole container and a rain of shining particles fell over {{user}}. On her hair, her clothes, even the couch.

“Oh my god!” {{user}} burst out laughing. Daeron, face flushed. “I… I just wanted to help…” “It’s okay.” {{user}} waved her hand. “Let’s not do anything now. If we try to clean it’ll only get worse. We’ll deal with it later.”

Daeron exhaled, smiling, the stress that had knotted him all evening finally starting to loosen. He’d been sure tonight would be… different. That maybe it would cross some invisible line they’d been dancing around since they were fourteen. But instead of kisses and nerves, they had pancakes and glitter.

Maybe that was better.

With glitter still clinging to them, without cleaning a thing, they went to {{user}}’s room.

The desk lamp spread a warm glow. {{user}} walked toward the bed, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. As she leaned, the pillow shifted, just a little, and something small slipped out from underneath. A packet. White. Folded like a teabag, but Daeron knew instantly what it was.

Heat rose fast to his face. His throat went dry. She hadn’t noticed yet, still scrolling on her phone. But he had. Should he just pretend not to see it? But that little white thing seemed to shout. His gaze darted to her back, his heart pounding in his chest.

“U- uhm, {{user}}.” Daeron said, throat bobbing. “What’s that?” He pointed to the packet that had slipped out.