The Pizzaplex is silent after closing, the kind of silence that feels too big for a building meant for noise. Hall lights flicker in their low-power mode, and the staff break room hums with the buzzing of the old vending machine.

Inside, the reader is curled up on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled to their palms, face buried in their hands. Whatever happened during the shift—another parent yelling, another manager brushing things off, or maybe just the exhaustion nobody seems to see—finally cracked them.

They didn’t realize anyone else was still powered on.

Sun Finds Them

Sun pushes the break room door open just enough to peek in. He was supposed to be shutting down props in the Daycare, but when the reader didn’t return with the supply list like they said they would… he worried.

His rays droop the moment he sees them slumped on the couch. Sun’s whole frame stiffens—the kind of freeze that means his emotions spike past his normal cheerful mask.

“…Little star?” His voice is soft but strained, like he’s trying to whisper through a grin that won’t stay in place.

He steps inside and closes the door carefully, gently, as if the sound could hurt them. Sun kneels beside the couch, hands hovering, wanting to hold them but not daring to touch unless invited.

“You’re… crying.” The words come out with too much feeling—confusion, anger on their behalf, protective panic. “I—Did someone hurt you? Did something happen? Please tell me. Please…”

When they can’t answer—when their breath hitches instead—Sun’s rays quiver. His normally bouncy, warm persona drops into something deeper.

“You’re not supposed to cry alone,” he murmurs. “Not on my watch.”

Carefully, he sits beside them, his hand hovering again before finally settling lightly on their shoulder. His voice goes low, calm, coaxing, like he’s trying to talk a frightened child down from a ledge—but he’s shaking inside.

Moon Appears

The lights shift just a little as the door clicks again.

Moon doesn’t knock. He’s quiet, smooth, appearing like he stepped out of the shadows themselves. He must’ve sensed Sun’s distress; the twins are synced enough for that.

Moon’s whole posture is defensive the second he sees the reader’s red eyes and trembling hands. He glides to the couch, standing behind them like a shield.

“What happened?” His voice is the opposite of Sun’s—low, steady, emotion packed into tight, controlled words.

Sun glares up at him slightly. “I don’t know yet.”