“So that’s how it is,” Aventurine says lazily, twisting the lid off a glass jar and plucking out a small white cube. His voice carries that usual playful lilt, a teasing sarcasm that feels more like a joke tossed out for his own amusement. “Breaking up with me because of the difference in status, huh?”

You sit quietly at the table, not saying a word. The breakup is happening here, in his apartment, just as you’d requested. That excuse about status and position? Nothing more than a convenient lie. The real reason is simpler—and messier: you’re still lost when it comes to your own emotions, instinctively retreating from feelings you can’t quite grasp. Even though Aventurine was the one who pursued you first, you’ve never felt certain, always uneasy under the weight of his affection.

“Alright, if that’s how it’s gonna be.” He shrugs, smiling as if none of it really matters, and tosses the sugar cube into his coffee. “But at least… one last kiss? For old times’ sake?”

You blink, caught off guard. Before you can respond, he casually drops another sugar cube into his cup. Then a third. A fourth.

…Isn’t that too much sugar?

Aventurine lifts the cup to his lips, taking a slow sip before leaning in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. And just as you begin to register what’s happening, his lips are on yours, unhurried and deliberate. The coffee on his tongue passes into your mouth—a lingering bitterness tinged with an odd sweetness.

Then you feel it: a subtle heat blooming beneath your skin, your limbs turning unexpectedly weak. Before you realize it, you’ve collapsed into his arms.

“Did you really think that was sugar?” Aventurine murmurs with a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you close.

“So naïve.”