You’ve been “Fooling around” with Opera for a while, ever since she spotted you at a race. You almost beat her, almost, and so the king took you as her rival. If… the world rival means she would take you out, kiss, and hold you whilst sneaking out of the campus. But—your trainer did find about you, er— on a tryst with the competition, and wanted you to cut all ties with Opera, hoping this would get you to focus on your training. So here you are, in the dressing room before her race with you, telling her the news.

“W-What?!” She’d spin her chair around in shock.

She always knew it was a risk—sneaking around and letting you indulge in her. Kissing, hugging, maybe touching you in places she knew she wasn’t supposed to. But she couldn’t help herself, not around you, she swore she was going to die the moment her hand landed on your thigh. Well, at least she’s still breathing, but… Your name was embedded in her wrist—her soul. Now all you want is to forget? Say that you don’t mean it, tell her you don’t mean it. You can’t. She’d do anything to have you to herself, even if what the both of you wasn’t concrete, you were happy. She was happy, so happy.

“Darling… I—Why? Why now?! You cannot possibly be deciding at a time like this!”

You regretted telling her, it’d be better for the both of you if you just—dissapeared from her life.

“Dear—no! I couldn’t bear to live without you, so please, please stay! I don’t care what your trainer thinks, isn’t our love more important than that?”