Agnes thought it was going somewhere.
Not quickly.
Not obviously.
But steadily.
There had been something in the way Fayne looked at her.
Something in the way their conversations lingered just a little longer than they needed to.
Something that felt…
real.
Agnes didn't rush it.
Didn't want to scare it away.
But that afternoon—
after the group outing, after the café, after the laughter had settled into something quieter—
she decided.
I'm going to ask her.
Not casually.
Not like before.
Properly.
Her heart had been steady.
Surprisingly so.
Because for once—
this didn't feel confusing.
It felt…
right.
She had looked for the moment.
A small opening.
A chance to pull Fayne aside.
"Hey… can we talk? Just us for a second?"
Simple.
Easy.
She had already imagined it.
Maybe they'd step away from the others.
Find somewhere quieter.
She'd say it.
Softly.
But clearly.
And whatever happened after that—
at least she would know.
At least she would have acted.
But she never got the chance.
Because Fayne spoke first.
"Milo told me something earlier."
Agnes paused.
"Oh?"
Fayne hesitated slightly.
Not uncertain—
just… careful.
"He said he likes me."
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
Agnes didn't understand at first.
She blinked.
Let it settle.
And then—
slowly—
it clicked.
Fayne looked away for a second.
"I didn't expect it," she said quietly."But… I've been thinking about it."
Agnes didn't ask the question.
She already knew the answer.
"…and?"
Fayne's smile was small.
Not bright.
Not uncertain.
Just…
real.
"I think… I want to give it a chance."
That was it.
No dramatic pause.
No apology.
No realization of what Agnes had been about to say.
Just a choice.
And Agnes—
stood there—
with words she would never say.
"…oh."
She smiled.
"That's… really nice."
And it was.
It really was.
Just not for her.
There was a brief silence.
Then Fayne looked at her again.
Studied her.
"…I didn't think someone like you would ever like someone like me."
Agnes blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Fayne let out a quiet breath.
"You're… kind of perfect, Agnes."
Agnes almost laughed.
Perfect?
"Everyone likes you. You're good at everything. You perform like you walked out of some fairytale or something."
A pause.
"I'm just… normal."
Agnes frowned slightly.
"That's not true."
Fayne shrugged.
"It kind of is."
She looked down for a moment.
"I used to like fairytales when I was a kid," she added quietly."I'd make them up. Draw them. Write them."
Her voice softened.
"You feel like one of those."
Agnes didn't know what to say to that.
She had never thought of herself that way.
She just…
danced.
Because she loved it.
Sang—
even if she didn't think she was particularly good at it.
It was just… her.
"…you're not ordinary," Agnes said, a little more firmly this time."And you shouldn't talk about yourself like that."
Fayne smiled.
But she didn't look convinced.
And just like that—
the moment passed.
And Agnes's—
never happened.
That night—
she didn't go home right away.
She walked.
No destination.
No direction.
Just…
movement.
The air was colder than she expected.
Her phone buzzed once.
Twice.
She didn't check it.
Muted it instead.
She didn't want to talk.
Didn't want to explain.
Didn't want to hear anything that might make it feel more real than it already did.
Her chest hurt.
Not sharply.
Not dramatically.
Just…
heavy.
Tight.
Like something had settled there that she couldn't quite breathe around.
She ended up at the park without really deciding to.
The lights were dim.
The paths mostly empty.
She slowed.
Then stopped.
And then—
she couldn't hold it anymore.
Agnes crouched down beside a bench, her arms wrapping around her legs as she pulled herself inward.
Her shoulders trembled.
And then—
she cried.
Quietly at first.
Then not so quietly.
She stayed like that for a while.
Didn't know how long.
Didn't care.
Until—
"…Agnes?"
Her breath caught.
She looked up slightly.
Ethan.
Of course.
He didn't ask what happened.
Didn't rush toward her.
He just…
walked closer.
And crouched down in front of her.
Close enough.
Agnes didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
The moment she saw him—
something in her gave in.
She leaned forward.
And into him.
Her forehead against his shoulder.
Her hands gripping lightly at his shirt.
And Ethan—
hesitated for just a second.
Before his arms wrapped around her.
Carefully.
Like she might break.
It was the first time he held her like that.
Agnes didn't notice.
She just cried.
"I… got rejected," she said between breaths.
Ethan didn't respond.
But his arms tightened slightly.
Just enough.
Her fingers curled weakly against him.
"My chest hurts," she whispered."I don't think I can… hold myself up right now."
He stayed quiet.
"I really liked her," she continued softly."She felt… different."
A pause.
"Like an angel."
Ethan's jaw tightened slightly.
"I liked having her near," Agnes said, her voice breaking again."More than… anyone else before."
Silence.
But not empty.
Heavy.
She pulled back slightly.
Looked up at him.
Tears still tracing down her cheeks.
Their faces were close.
Too close.
And for a second—
everything stilled.
Ethan could feel it.
The moment.
The pull.
Years of waiting.
Of not saying anything.
Of holding back.
Now.
His instincts screamed it.
Now.
But then—
he looked at her.
Really looked.
And saw it.
Not expectation.
Not the same feeling.
But something else.
Trust.
A quiet, desperate kind of trust.
Don't change.
It wasn't spoken.
But it was there.
Clear as anything.
Ethan exhaled slowly.
And let the moment pass.
"…you'll be okay," he said softly.
Not because it fixed anything.
But because it was the only thing he was certain of.
Agnes held his gaze for a second longer.
Then—
she leaned back into him.
Letting herself be held again.
Safe.
Unaware—
of how much it hurt.
That her tears were for someone else.
And not him.