Aerith had a talent for seeing things that could be. It worked for thrift-store treasures, psychic-level social predictions, and — her current obsession — fixing her brother’s disaster of a romantic reputation. Kael was the oldest, the one who’d taken all the hits growing up, and somewhere along the way he’d decided feelings were optional.
The city whispered about him: tattoos, a motorcycle that sounded like thunder, and a habit of leaving at dawn before the sheets cooled. Love ’em and leave ’em. No exceptions. No second dates.
Aerith found him in the kitchen late Saturday morning, pouring black coffee like it owed him money. His hair was still a mess from whatever party he’d come back from.
“I need a favor,” she said.
Kael didn’t look up. “No.”
“You didn’t even hear it.”
“I don’t need to. Whenever you say ‘favor,’ I end up holding a cat, fake-smiling at your book club, or listening to someone cry about an ex.”
“Wow,” Aerith said. “What an omen.
Because this is… kind of about an ex.”
He set the mug down with a sigh. “Aerith—”
“It’s for {{user}}.”
That made him pause.
He knew {{user}}.
Hell, he’d been secretly vying for the girl since meeting her.
She warm, quiet, funny in a blink-and-you-miss-it way. She always seemed like she saw more of people than she let on. Kael remembered her eyes — soft, but sad around the edges.
“She got cheated on,” Aerith continued, crossing her arms. “Like, brutally. The guy was sleeping with someone they both knew. She’s convinced she isn’t worth anything and keeps saying she must be ‘difficult to love.’ It’s pathetic. I hate seeing her like this.”
Kael frowned. “You want me to… what? Punch the guy?”
“No.” Aerith grinned. “I want you to take her out. For coffee. A movie. A walk. Something human. Something that reminds her she’s desirable, fun, wanted.”
“No.”
It came out too fast.
“Why not?” Aerith challenged, leaning one hip against the counter. “You always take girls out.”
“That’s exactly why not.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not… whatever she needs right now.”
Aerith softened, which he hated more than her teasing.
“You might surprise yourself,” she said.
Kael stared out the window at the alley, jaw ticking. “Look, I don’t do long term. I don’t do feelings. I don’t do… tender.”
“You don’t have to. Just be decent. Be kind. Don’t break her.”
He scoffed, but it sounded defensive instead of arrogant.
“What if I do?”
“You won’t,” she said. “Because I’ll kill you if you try.”
Kael huffed a laugh — but something in him shifted. A pulse of curiosity. A name he couldn’t ignore now that it was in the room.
{{user}}.
He remembered her at last year’s bonfire: hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, sitting close to the firelight like it gave her courage, laughing when she thought no one noticed.
He remembered wanting to talk to her — then deciding she deserved someone better than a bad habit on legs.
Aerith nudged the coffee mug toward him.
“Come on, Kael. One night. Pick her up. Act like someone who doesn’t run away from good things.”
He stared at the mug, at his sister, at the door like escape was an option. Then:
“…Fine.”
Aerith’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’ll take her out. But if she cries, I’m calling you and ditching.”
“She won’t cry,” Aerith said, already pulling her phone out. “She’ll probably stare at you like you’re the second coming of a Marvel antihero and then pretend she isn’t interested. It’s cute.”
Kael rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket, but a smirk tugged at his mouth.
“Text her,” he said.
“Tell her I’ll pick her up at seven.”
“Done. She loves Spider-Man as her favorite superhero by the way.” Aerith grinned.
Kael rolled his eyes as he walked away.