Hmm… I hope this isn't too OOC for thirteen-year-olds…

And also WOOOOOOO canon goes out the window with this one.

Why does my stuff read like chick-lit? (Why am I implying that anything's wrong with chick-lit anyway?)

Soundtrack: Ghibli soundtracks. No reason needed ;) also, for some reason, Nyan Cat :/

Jessica knew that she had forgotten something, but it was only as she pushed down on the arts room door handle that realisation struck in a sweeping blow, and she groaned in dismay. The key. Of course, it was always the key.

As reluctant as she was to do so, she had, in fact, no other choice than to retrace her steps and follow the ever-winding, ever-dark corridors of the old school building all the way back to the admin block. She swung her bag down from her shoulder onto the floor, then set off. No need to drag around any extra weight, if she could help it.

The building was pretty silent, which in itself wasn't surprising: outside, the sky was bright and the lawn was a nice place to sit down with whoever person had returned one's affection to whatever love letter had been sent the day before. This reminded Jess of the few letters she had received herself and that she had yet to politely decline, but then she pushed the worrying thought aside when she remembered that Jonathan was going to have way more of a job than her, if he bothered to reply to any of his letters at all, that is.

For as long as she had known him, her friend had never been a romantic. His jam was to be the cool dude, the one who seemingly floated above all the stress and drama of school, the one guy whom everyone adored despite the fact that they didn't necessarily know him well. To others, he seemed untouchable, perfect, and had a heart as cold as the main entrance hall -which is pretty damn chilly, let me tell you- and even though the girl knew that this wasn't true, she had never witnessed anything that could disprove the rumours of her childhood friend's apparent asexuality.

That was, until she heard the sobs.

Despite their low volume, they echoed through the room, the emptiness of the hall amplifying the sound enough so that Jess managed to catch it. As tough as she seemed on the exterior, there was no way she was leaving whoever this person was alone. She followed the noise to its source, a shadowy spot that her bad eyes and weak glasses could not quite pierce through, only just making out the shape of a person leaning against the wall.

"Hey there, are you alright?" she asked, cringing at the harshness of her own voice. The person in the shadows immediately fell silent, not even the sound of breathing coming from the dimly lit corner of the room.

"Jessica?" the person whispered, and for a second, the girl remained silent, trying to figure out why this voice sounded familiar, yet unknown. Then, it clicked.

"Jonathan?" she tried, her voice dropping as she shuffled a little closer, joining him in the shadows. "What's going on?"

They were now next to each other, and she could just about make out the set of his face in the darkness. The blue of his irises was dimmed by a veil of unshed tears, looking not quite at her, but at the light streaming in in dirty golden strands from above one of the rows of lockers. Finally, he exhaled and looked at her full-on, a determined yet somehow… fragile look on his face. She was a little unsure, really. She wasn't used to seeing her friend like this.

"Jess… Do you mind not telling anyone about this?"

She pretended to consider it for a second, even though she had already made her choice. "Only if you tell me what put you in this state."

He sighed, and it was a little heartbreaking really. He looked tired, she thought, now that she could get a better look at him. Pale, even, as far as the light could let her see.

"Alright. But could you please not laugh?"

Jessica nodded. He had done so much for her in the past; now was her time to repay her debt.

"Well-" His gaze dropped, flickering uncertainly around. "-this may seem silly, but I've got a… a crush, and I think I've been rejected."

There wasn't much she could add to that. All at once, she was struck by how utterly useless she was in this situation, and looked away herself, sighing.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan. Is there any way I can help you? I mean… well, you know me. I can't really matchmake for you or anything like that, but you know… Do you need to talk, or would you prefer if I left you for the time being?"

He shrugged, but seconds later, just before Jessica decided to leave him alone for the time being and to check on him again once she had picked up the key she needed, he looked up sharply, catching hold of her sleeve before she could move off. She frowned, roughly taking hold of Jonathan's wrist and pulling it free from her uniform sweater. This was not like him. He was usually way more polite.

"Wait, what do you mean? Not good at matchmaking?"

There it was again, the desperate edge to his voice that melted her rising annoyance instantly, reminding her that he was probably in emotional pain, and therefore not acting exactly as she expected from him usually. She slumped back down against the wall heavily alongside him, deciding to get this conversation done and over with for his sake.

"I'm not huge on coming out… I mean, can you come out as… not 'like-liking' people? Well, there it is. The point is, I thought it was obvious enough. I mean, I thought you were like me too, that is until you told me about this crush thing..."

He had his thinking face on. Not a judging one, nor a surprised one, just that intense thinking expression he used when he was trying to solve those difficult maths problems that she herself was more likely to set aside than not.

"You're right, I couldn't have known. We never had this conversation before..."

"You're just completely oblivious Jonathan, that's all there is to it," she interrupted. "Most people can tell. I don't actually go screaming it everywhere, but I will tell anyone who asks me directly. On the other hand, I definitely wasn't expecting you to have a crush on someone. You've been hiding it very well if even I haven't noticed."

He looked away, his train of thought derailed by her own words probably. "So… It's possible I've still got a chance. Maybe."

Jessica could see by the way he was looking into the middle-distance that he was speaking more to himself than her, but she still wanted to know what this was about. She didn't necessarily want to get caught up in something that she had no willingness to take a part in in the first place, and the first step to getting out of a situation is to know what the situation is in the first place, as all know.

"What do you mean by that?"

His eyes focussed again, but didn't meet hers. "Well..."

"Spit it out, will you!" she suddenly snapped. She could actually be pretty patient at times, but that particular virtue was now being pushed to its limits, and she could tell from experience that if she kept up the soft act on her friend and tried to coax whatever he was thinking out gently, she would probably never get anything.

Indeed, Jonathan did jump and as if electrified and looked at her sideways, but didn't dwindle as he hastily mumbled out: "I thought you liked each other but now that I know it's one-sided there's still a slight possibility that I can ask him out, alright?"

The coming-out didn't register immediately, it was more the fact that she had yet another person to turn down that made Jess groan internally and rethink in a second her life choices. Maybe it would be less of a hassle if she became a nun; then, it did, and she was left with her mouth hanging open, not a word coming to her blank mind. Jonathan may have been oblivious, but she had officially just beaten his record.

But now he was biting his lip and he looked more nervous than she had ever seen him before, so she smiled, even though it was a little forced, and nodded. Yep, this was fine. She was fine. Everything is fine.

"Alrighty-o, um… yeah!"

That sounded awkward. Jessica cringed, gave herself a second, then tried again, this time speaking more carefully. "Well, whoever this person is, I can guarantee that I am not going to steal him away from you," she assured, patting Jonathan's shoulder. "Besides, I've got other priorities, like getting those papers back to the teacher. And the band. The band needs me more than any hopeless fool who thinks he loves me. Hah, just go and do your thing, okay? Do what feels right. I don't know. Just. Argh!"

Her frustration had Jonathan chuckling, and she would have felt humiliated and without doubt clocked him over the head (in a friendly manner, of course) if they had been in any other situation, but for the time being it was welcome, lightening the atmosphere enough to make it breathable and somewhat comfortable again. She got up, offering a hand to her friend, who took it gratefully and she pulled him to his feet. As they walked into the light bathing the halls, she saw that he looked no different than he usually did, but now she could tell that it was a façade he put up for her and any other person who would possibly walk past. It was a little saddening, really, that despite all these years spent together that there was so much she had only picked up in the last few minutes.

With a heart fully hoping the best for Jonathan and her mind now as far away from music as it could possibly be, she waved her farewells and returned to her course, trying to drown her uneasiness in the busy thrum of routine.

It only worked marginally, as halfway to the admin block she forgot what she had set off to find, and had to yet again return to the music room empty-handed to realise her mistake, but when she finally did manage to bring her guitar out and improvise a solo, she felt better. This only lasted the length of the piece though, and she was soon back to feeling guilty. Not only had she not been the most supportive of people just then, but there was also the fact that she had indirectly caused pain to someone she loved like a brother. She rubbed furiously at her eyes, trying to piece together what she knew of Jonathan and how she could possibly right this wrong. Her friend would not go to this crush of his by himself, he was too shy for that. Even though he was the most popular kid in school, he would have never accomplished anything if it weren't for his parents and peer-pressure. There was none of that in this particular situation. A particularly violent rub that made stars erupt behind her closed eyelids also sent her glasses flying, landing on the soft guitar case.

The small sound they made at they hit the fabric was just what she needed to unblock her thoughts, it seemed. With a renewed determination, she snatched them up and roughly shoved them on her nose, eyes flashing and face set in a grim expression.

A matchmaker she was not, but a matchmaker she was now to become.

Sherwin hadn't moved for hours, or that was what it felt like, anyway. The only certainty that he had was that the day wasn't over yet, the sun not having set nor the chill of the night permeated his bones; if it wasn't for that, he could have been sitting there for centuries, slowly merging with the right angle that the wall made with the concrete floor and become some kind of fake stone like they were.

Jonathan and Samantha. Samantha and Jonathan. It was sickening how easily it rolled off the tongue, how readily those two names could be said together. Despair had given way to jealousy, a sentiment so bitter and alien that it scared him into crying again. A century must have passed before the redhead moved on, making his mind up and for the first time in maybe a millennia he moved, raising his head and wiping the tears from his eyes using his shoulder.

If Jonathan was happy with Samantha, let it be so. He will grin and bear it, for Jonathan's sake. He was the one who mattered. Next to him, Sherwin was nothing more than a speck amongst so many that would compose his life story, another unknown face that would meld with the others and would only trigger a brief moment of recognition when found in old, dusty school photos, years from now...

He became ridiculously poetic when he was sad.

This weird thought appeared just as he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, as if it was an instinct to camouflage even his silent pining from whoever might have disapproved of it. Instantly, he wiped what might be the remaining tears from his eyes and looked up to observe the person coming his way.

His vision was still a little blurry, and in the shadows cast by the building the approaching figure was indistinct, nothing more than a silhouette, but he recognised it instantly nonetheless. That was Jonathan.

The redhead scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off, debating whether the best course of action was to stay put, run for his life, or put his well-practiced talent that was hiding in bins to use. In the end, he found that he couldn't move anyway, frozen to the spot by all the conflicting thoughts and emotions coursing through him. The figure moved closer, now only ten feet away. Sherwin's knees were weak and he battled to stay upright, fumbling and catching hold of the wall to keep his balance.

The only reason why he would be here right now was if he had read his letter. Jonathan was looking for him, and he was either bearing extremely good or extremely bad news. Both options were terrifying, but Sherwin was determined not to faint before he knew for sure what the case was.

He was nearly incapable of keeping that promise though when the person started speaking.

"Sherwin? Where were you this afternoon, everyone's been out looking for you!" exclaimed someone who most certainly wasn't Jonathan. That was Cristian's voice, without a doubt, lisp and all. A mix of relief and disappointment took over him and he stumbled, but still managed to stay standing, and even forced a smile.

"H-hey Criss, what's up?"

The other boy got closer, and now he could make out his face, as well as the frown that was adorning it.

"Actually, I think that I'm the one who should be asking you that. The admin's been going crazy, they phoned your mum and everything. I'm supposed to bring you back to the principal's office once I've found you."

Understanding the implicit order, the redhead attempted to take a step forward, and was surprised to find that he didn't stumble. His knees were still trembling, even though the stress was this time related to the possible trouble that he could be in.

Cristian tried to pry some information out of him as they walked through the remaining warmth left over by the unusually sunny day, but Sherwin resorted to his usual technique that he used whenever he didn't want to talk about something: he clammed up. This had the side-effect of having Cristian invent a ton of theories for himself, ranging from bullying to the painfully accurate one that was a crush's rejection.

The office door was plain, not even a plaque announcing the person occupying it, making it somewhat more impressive. With no fear, Cristian rapped on the wood, waiting for the 'enter' before pushing the handle down and grasping Sherwin's sleeve, making sure that he didn't bolt and indeed followed him in.

She sat with her hands clasped before her, elbows on the desk and looking intently at the two students who had just entered. "Hello boys, please take a seat," she greeted conversationally, but neither of them were fooled by her easygoing tone.

"I found him behind the cafeteria building, next to the dumpsters. Can I go now please, Ma'am?"

The principal sent Cristian a reproachful look that quieted him immediately and that effectively sat him down in the hard plastic chair. She turned her attention back to Sherwin, who quailed under her inquisitive stare, eyes fleeting from one end of the room to the other, looking anywhere other than at the woman sitting across from him.

"Sherwin," she snapped after a minute or so. "I'm going to call your parents and you'll explain yourself to all of us once they get here. Mister Blanca, you're staying here until this young man's parents get here, alright?"

He didn't really have a choice, so he nodded shortly. Sherwin, on the other hand, didn't know what to do, what to think. In any other situation he would have told the truth, but this wasn't an option he was willing to take here. He was going to have to fabricate a story in the small window of time he had before his mum arrived.

"Hello, Miss Payne? Yes, we found Sherwin. Yes, he's fine..."

The rest of the conversation was lost to him, too concentrated on finding a possible tale that was believable enough to pass the test. To him, it only felt like minutes between the time when the call ended and when an authoritative knock sounded on the wooden door, making him jump, much to Criss' amusement.

"Please enter."

In walked his mother, bun hastily pinned to the top of her head, followed by his sister. As soon as she caught sight of him, Beatrice rushed forward and pulled Sherwin into a hug, slightly lifting him from his seat as she did.

"Oh Winny! We were so worried..."

The principal cleared her throat. "Misses Payne, please take a seat."

Beatrice calmed down and did as she was told, but her actions had told Sherwin all he needed to know. He didn't need a lecture, his sister's desperate hug and words had been enough of a punishment in themselves.

"Thank you for sparing some time for this meeting. As you know, Sherwin has been missing for most of the day, and we were just about to call the police when Mister Blanca here found your son and brought him to my office-" she turned to the taller boy. "-and you may go now, Mister Blanca."

He didn't need to be told twice. Sparing a quick glance in Sherwin's direction before he did so, he left, the click of the door echoing like a finality in the silence that followed the student's dismissal.

"So, Mister Payne, I think you know what we're all here for; please, let us hear your story."

The redhead swallowed heavily, seeking refuge in his mother; surely, she was the one who was less likely to be judgemental in this situation. He took in a deep breath, glad to find that little bit of encouragement in his mother's eyes, and despite the feeling of betrayal that clenched his gut into a tight knot, he braced himself and told his lie.

"I-I was sick. Very sick. And… I told Mum that I would be fine, that I'd be able to go into school today. I just… I just didn't want to get into trouble. That's all. So I thought I'd just wait until I felt better, then get back to the lessons. But… I think I might have fallen asleep or something. I'm sorry."

Sherwin bit his lip, probably looking just as guilty as he felt. Mum could probably see right through him, but it was the best thing he could come up with on the spur of the moment.

"Winny, look at me," said his sister. He did, although she could see in her eyes that she also suspected that there was something more to his story. "Tell me, why didn't you go and see the school nurse?"

"I… I would have been sent home. Mum, I'm so sorry, she would have phoned you and I really didn't want to bother you. I didn't know that this was going to happen, and I definitely didn't want to worry you all like this."

There was a silence in the room, only broken by the somewhat exasperated sigh from the headmistress. "Alright. Miss and Misses Payne, if you don't mind I would suggest you quickly go to the nurse's office and have Sherwin checked over before you go home, just in case. As for you, young man," she declared, "you are to be given two hours of detention after school starting tomorrow, until the end of next week." She got up, shook both of the other women's hands, then accompanied them all to the door, exchanging farewell-related pleasantries, before finally she was cut off from their line of sight by the large wood panel closing on her.

Sherwin let his breath out, still shook up but glad that it was over. A hand grasped his wrist and he was pulled forward pretty forcefully, yelping when he felt his shoulder joint strain. Trying to match the long strides that his mother was imposing upon him, he tried a glance at her face.

Her jaw was set strongly and her brow furrowed, looking more than stormy. Glancing to her side, he saw that his sister bore a similar expression, even though hers was maybe softer and a little disbelief was seen flashing through there now and then. His eyes snapped back to his mother immediately when she spoke up, however.

"Sherwin Payne, if that nurse finds that there's nothing wrong with you, we'll have to have a pretty serious talk once we get back home."

The redhead swallowed, feeling like his saliva had turned into a ball of barbed wire. No matter what he had hoped when he had exited that office, this was nowhere near over. Neither of the women believed a word of his lie, obviously. This was only reinforced by the nurse's predictably positive diagnosis that he was in perfect health, the uncertainty that Beatrice had displayed up until then crystallising into the same ferociously protective, but also truth-seeking sentiment that emanated from his mother.

The drive home was quiet. This was not a conversation that was supposed to take place in a car, after all; the atmosphere was too grave for that. Again, this gave time for Sherwin to think through a possible alternative story, but in the end there wasn't anything that he could fall back on. Of course, if he hadn't been such an obedient and otherwise rule-abiding student in the first place, he could have claimed that he had skipped school to go and have fun with his friends, but circumstances were against him in this case. Even if he did give that excuse, it could be easily verified by phoning his friend's parents, or else the places he claimed he had visited whilst skipping class. He let his head fall to his hands, muffling his surroundings by pressing his hands to his face; There was really no other solution to this than telling them the truth. He just had to try and stay as vague as possible, and hope that they didn't pry too much. Hie mother wouldn't, but Beatrice though… He didn't want to have to deal with stopping his enraged sister from strangling a clueless Jessica.

They were in the kitchen now. Somehow, the redhead hadn't noticed the whole routine of piling out of the car, into the hall, and then into the living area, where they now all sat with grim faces and folded hands. Michael had also nipped into the room, attracted by the brewing conflict, no doubt, but trying to look unconcerned as he fixed himself a snack in the corner. The apple that he grabbed and that Sherwin caught sight of from the corner of his eye was a cruel reminder of why he was in this position in the first place, and a sob, stifled with as much might as he could muster, climbed up his throat and escaped him. This was not lost on his two interrogators, however, and they exchanged a look, before returning their eyes to him. Surprisingly, his mother's expression had softened, something he wasn't accustomed to in the habitually stony woman.

"Sherwin… You know what we're here for."

The boy shuffled in his seat, eyes now unable to leave the wooden kitchen table's numerous scratches and burns from years of use and abuse. Really, this day couldn't have been much worse in his opinion. He was heartbroken, barely able to function from grief, and he was going to have to relive it here, in front of his entire family without breaking down a second time, or unwillingly spilling his heart too much. He had to control himself.

"Bea was right," he started, his voice coming out as nothing more than a mumble. The ticking of the clock, that old, cheap plastic clock that everyone hated with a passion but that nobody had ever bothered to take down, was now the only thing that was heard in the kitchen. Even Michael had interrupted his search for food, without doubt in order to strain his ears to hear what his brother had to say.

Sherwin sighed heavily. "I… I like someone, and I thought they liked me back… and… and..."

Beatrice got up, not one to stand the sight of a person in pain without offering some sort of comfort, and enveloped him in her evil-smelling arms. There was nothing he could really do other than burrow deeper into her reassuring mass, being hushed and rocked for as long as it took for him to calm down. She let go of him then, letting the kitchen come back into focus.

The looks on people's faces varied: Beatrice had a small smile on hers, his mother's was relaxed and patient, and Michael… Michael looked like he had just realised something. Sherwin wasn't certain though, as he had to blink the last few tears from his eyes, and that time was enough for his brother to go back to his previous activity, now turned away from him.

"So you spent the whole day moping?" his mother asked, to the point, even though everyone winced when she imposed her rather brusque question on the assembly. Timidly, Sherwin nodded, and again his sister's broad arms tightened around him.

Then, there was a hand in his hair, ruffling it gently. Looking up, the boy was shocked to see that it was his mother's hand rather than his sister's, the rare mark of affection gone before he could really savour it. "I don't think that I should be surprised. In the future, please remember that you can always call me or Beatrice if you need someone to talk to, or at least to tell us that you need to take a breather from school. There's no shame in it, Sherwin."

"We were just worried," his sister tagged on. "We're not used to receiving calls from the school concerning you; it isn't in your habits to skip like that. In our minds, anything could have happened to you," his sister added, finally letting go of him and regaining her seat. Her brow furrowed for an instant, before her face relaxed into a more familiar expression, one that everyone had come to dread at one moment or another, as it announced the re-emergence of her 'overprotective sister' side and the possible revenge plans that ensued.

"Sooo…" she started, pulling out the word as she settled her chin on folded hands. "I heard that a certain 'Jessica' was the cause of all this. Where does she live, I wonder? Or does she board? That would be an even better alternative, really, I know that building like the back of my hand and..."

"No! Beatrice, please leave it be," Sherwin pleaded, sweat accumulating on his forehead swept away angrily as he tried to remain composed. He shot a quick look at his mother, but she seemed to have disconnected from the conversation and was currently making a pot of tea. Fight your own battles, said her whole, carefully constructed indifference. There was obviously no help to be found there. "Michael! Please, talk some sense into Bea!" Sherwin said in desperation, turning to the only other person in the room who could still save him. Jessica was a nice person, and he didn't want to involve her in something that was absolutely not her fault. He just needed to turn her down calmly when he felt up to it, and that would be that. If Beatrice stuck her nose in the whole affair, the chances were that she would discover that it was in fact he who didn't wish for a relationship with Jessica and not the other way around, and that would spark way more questions than he deemed comfortable to answer. If there was anything he could do to delay telling his family about his true attraction, he would, even if that meant bribing his brother with way more sweets than he really should be eating at his age.

"'Win's right, Bea," Michael asserted, eyes still focused on the peanut butter and jam sandwich that he had made himself. His brother sighed in relief, glad to have at least one person on his side. However, Michael wasn't yet finished, and added: "You shouldn't hold a grudge against Jessica, 'cause she's not the one who turned him down. That would be Jonathan."

Again, only that darned clock was the only thing that was heard in the kitchen for a few seconds, seconds that stretched into years, centuries for Sherwin, frozen to his seat as he took in the room with a certain surreal clarity, that then tunnelled as the full impact of the words registered. His eyes flickered across the faces of his three family members, the only three he had, he now realised. Three people that he couldn't bear to lose.

"That's a… rather weird name for a girl, Michael."

Beatrice's youngest brother shrugged non-committally and bit into his sandwich, likely to give himself a countenance. He was tense, despite appearances, and chewed mechanically. Beatrice turned back to Sherwin, who shrank under her glare. It felt like a hand was pushing down on his chest, stopping him from breathing properly while his brain shouted at him, telling him to run, even though he physically couldn't. He couldn't tear his eyes from her either, truly terrified of her for the first time ever and afraid of what would happen if he moved even a little.

The sound of a kettle slamming hard against the aluminium draining board had all of them flinching, snapping the atmosphere like a dry twig and bringing everyone's attention to the room's older woman.

"Stop that this instant; this is getting absolutely ridiculous. Michael, what you just did was extremely rude. Sherwin wasn't prepared for that information to be revealed, and it should have been up to him to decide when he was comfortable enough to do so. It could have even been dangerous, do you understand?"

The youngest member of the family swallowed his mouthful, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he nodded, defeated.

"Beatrice, you're an adult now; don't pretend that you don't understand. Sherwin is your brother, he will always remain your brother, and I'll be extremely disappointed if you decide that whatever romantic fantasies you spun around him are more important than the truth of the matter. Now, get over it or get out of here, and only come back when you've calmed down and not threatening violence any more."

Mrs. Payne's daughter looked put off for a few seconds, opened her mouth as if to say something, closed it again, then looked stubbornly down at the table, eyes lost in thought.

"As for you, Sherwin," his mother started, and her sole red-haired son dropped his eyes to the table, catching onto the same knots that he had been contemplating so intensely earlier on. He heard footsteps approaching, jerking his head up just before his mother pulled out a chair, facing him directly without the table barring the space between them. She reached out, the boy flinching away from her instinctively at first, but she persisted and successfully pulled him into a light hug. "It isn't going to be easy," was the first thing she mumbled, in a volume that may or may not have been audible to the other people in the room. "But I still stand by what I said before. We'll always be here for you. Yes, even Bea. She's just frustrated because she made a mistake, that's all. You're still my son, and you're still Sherwin to us. Nothing has changed."

His chest, his shoulders, all the upper part of his body felt light all of a sudden. Maybe it was relief settling in, or maybe it was that he had recovered his normal breathing pattern and his body was thanking him in its own weird way for it, but he felt better. He thought that he had cried himself dry earlier on, but he felt new tears welling up already, and again he let himself be rocked back and forth until he found it in himself to push away from the embrace. When the kitchen came back into focus, Beatrice was gone from the seat that she had been sat down in earlier on and Michael stood staring, eyes wide, red-rimmed and sandwich looking a little sad and droopy in its half-eaten state.

Slowly, carefully, Sherwin got up from his seat, his brother looking away and quickly exiting the room, as if reminded that he was the one most at fault here. Surprisingly, all was silent once the loud click of his bedroom door echoed through the house, the cello silenced for the time being. The redhead looked at his mother, then quickly glanced away again when he received a smile in response. He hadn't been prepared for this, not really. And right now, he couldn't really handle more human interaction than was absolutely necessary.

It didn't take him long to get to his room and to climb into his bed once he had pulled the curtains tightly shut, so that only a little of the slanting orange rays of setting sun illuminated the area. Blankets remained flat at first, but the boy couldn't help but pull them closer, bunching them together and hugging them to his chest.

If Sherwin were to describe how he felt right then, he would have done so in one word: hollow. So much had happened in one day that there was nothing left, only grey melancholy, a diffuse sensation with nothing strong to back it up. There was nothing left to do but sleep. So that's what he did. Or he attempted to, anyway.

Sherwin's eyes snapped open when a loud sound, one different to the usual white noise of far-off cars detached itself from the rest, loud and clear.

He easily dismissed it at first, thinking that it was probably a bat or a bird, or even a large insect that had slammed against the glass of his window, but sat straight up when it sounded a second time, followed closely by a third. His eyes searched the night, catching onto the glowing hands of his alarm clock. They indicated that it was very late indeed. A fourth knock against his window pane had him jumping up and rushing to the drawn curtains, fearing for the integrity of the old glass if it were to receive a hit that proved fatal.

A small voice in the back of Sherwin's head, the slightly paranoid one, and possibly the sensible one in this situation, was pleading him to stop and get his Mum or Bea, or another adult that might be able to better deal with the situation if it were a burglar trying to break in, but the grey fog in which his brain still resided muffled it, blanketing the panic with an uncaring attitude. All he wanted was to go back to sleep, and if possible without having to deal with the chill that a broken window would surely bring to the room.

He pulled back the curtains, the fabric feeling immensely heavy to his weary hands, and struggled with the swollen wood of the window frame before being able to get open correctly.

"Oi, whoever it is, stop that please," he called into the night softly, leaning out onto the ledge. The small garden and street beyond were softly lit by the street light opposite them, but nothing moved to Sherwin's prompt. Maybe it was just bats, after all.

Then, horrifyingly, a hand grasped at the ledge the boy was leaning on. He squeaked and took a step back as the horror-movie-worthy apparition tensed, before a figure rose up to the same level. The mysterious individual swung their legs over into the room whilst Sherwin stood backed in a corner, the one opposite the door out, unfortunately. He should have listened to the voice in his head. He should have been more careful, and now he was going to have to pay the price. The figure turned their head his way, catching the lamppost light at just the right angle to reveal their identity.

"J-Jessica?" Sherwin stuttered out, before realising his mistake and clamming up, huddling into an even smaller ball. If it was her, she had surely come for him. This was very, very bad news indeed.

"Hey Sherwin. How are you doing?" she replied flippantly, taking her seat on his unmade bed and crossing her legs nonchalantly.

Silence was the only thing that answered her. She sighed and crossed her arms after a while, looking into the distance.

"Alright, I think I've got a bone to pick with you," she added after a while. "First, sorry to have broken in. Sorta. And spooking you. Really, I mean you no harm, you can get up."

Sherwin didn't move an inch. There was no way he was trusting anything or anyone after a day filled with so much bad luck.

"I'd better get on with it, you're right. Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but I think that I know why you acted all strange yesterday, why you ran off and such. And after what Jonathan had told me as well..."

That certainly got his attention. Sherwin's mistrust melted like ice-cream left in the sun, getting him to sit more comfortably in the corner that he had claimed for himself and listened with ears wide to Jessica's tale.

"Yeah, well… I didn't quite believe him at first, it's true, but after a good practice session I thought it through and really, I owe him something. I felt so bad for him, you know? It doesn't really matter that I wasn't supposed to be caught up in this… whatever this is, but I did in the end, and that's that," she rambled, but then stopped, clearing her throat and seeming to notice her own incomprehensibility.

"Right, so," she attempted to start again. "I'm sorry to have not been clear. I was going to ask you to come along to the music room to join our band, because now that David's gone we could do with a drummer. There. I wasn't asking you out."

Sherwin frowned, brain trying to make sense of what the girl was saying. Was she referring… Oh.

"And, well, after you disappeared, we were all really worried. Especially Jonathan. He was running around like a headless chicken, but not in a funny way. I think he's still up now, I passed by his house on the way here and saw that his window was still lit. Where were you, by the way? None of us were told anything about what was happening, we weren't even told that you had been found."

He didn't answer, too caught up in what she had revealed in the first part of her sentence. Jonathan… was worried about him? Was that even true? Was…

"Hey, Sherwin? You haven't fallen asleep, haven't you?"

The wriggling fingers in front of his eyes snapped him out of his thoughts instantly, making him jump and back up a little into the shelf that was already digging rather painfully into his back. He shook his head ferociously, catching up with her question and denying it so she could back off.

"Alright, I get it," she said after a sigh. "Anyway, there's my apology for you. I'm not going to force you to say anything, but I thought you could at least do so to Jonathan, you owe him at least that for the stress you made him go through. Tomorrow though, ay? You seem really tired."

She moved on from where she had been standing in front of him, heading back to the window. Meanwhile, Sherwin's thoughts were going a mile an hour, piecing together the information he had been given and birthing a new sentiment in him, something that resembled yesterday's rushing, roaring hope. For the first time that evening, he opened his mouth, and he let a few words loose, absolutely powerless in stopping them in their brief route from his brain to his mouth to the night-cooled air of his room.

"Could we go and see him this evening?"

Jessica paused for a second, and in that instant Sherwin wanted nothing more than for her to not have heard his request, to continue moving on and to leave without looking back. But of course, he forgot that he shouldn't really have been counting on his poor luck today.

"Of course! Even if he is in bed by now, I doubt he would have had time to go to sleep, so I don't think it'll be a problem if we go and see him straight away. Just, maybe you should get a coat and shoes, it's pretty cold out there."

He couldn't back up now. He wanted to, but if he did, he would never be able to ever confront neither Jonathan, nor even Jessica again. This was his one and only chance.

The redhead nodded at the girl and exited his room, gesturing for her to close the windows and follow him. There was no way that he was going to attempt the acrobatics that she had used to get to his first-floor window. They were going to go through the back door.

As usual, the house was quiet at such a time, snores emanating from his mother's room as they crept past carefully. The floorboards creaked, but there was nothing to be done about that. Bea's room, on the other hand, was eerily quiet, just as Michael's place, but Sherwin didn't worry too much about them either. Right now, he was riding a wave of determination, strengthened by the presence of Jessica by his side and the guilt of having imposed any kind of emotional pain or stress on Jonathan. He didn't deserve to suffer at his expense, and as Jessica had so aptly put it, there was a wrong to be righted there.

His coat and shoes were in the entrance hall, but they weren't there yet. First, they had to pass by the archway leading to the kitchen, and he was about to do so without a second thought, but that was before he caught the slight sound of ruffled fabric.

Sherwin gently stopped Jessica from going further with a raised arm, peeking into the darkness of the kitchen and catching sight of the shapes of the different pieces of furniture: the counters, the table, the gently humming fridge… There was something else though. A silhouette was sitting at the table, nearly indistinguishable in the shadowy room. It moved again, this time the sound of rustling fabric more distinct, and the redhead took a careful step back, pulling Jessica along with him.

"'Win?"

He stopped, glancing again around the door frame. The figure at the table was definitely too small to be his sister.

"Michael? What are you doing up so late?" he asked, moving into the room. He may have not wanted to be seen sneaking out, but his little brother was more important than that right now. His health issues, in particular his insomnia, was something that the whole family took upon themselves to help alleviate under any circumstances, so it was without hesitation that Sherwin stepped into the kitchen and tried to nudge him out of the chair he was sitting in.

"Come on, time for bed," Sherwin said in a soft voice as his held his brother firmly by the shoulders. He walked a few reluctant steps, accelerating a little bit once they reached the corridor. Jessica had disappeared, something that Sherwin was glad for, relieved from the task of explaining her presence to Michael.

He managed to get him back into the bed that he had left, tucking the strangely quiet child in. The older brother was about to go, when Michael sat up, catching his hand as he was about to leave the room.

"'Win..."

Sherwin sighed, but managed a smile. "Yes?"

"Can I… have a hug?"

This was definitely not normal. He nodded slowly, lowering himself down to his brother's level and letting him fling his arms around his neck, burying his head into his chest.

" 'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, I'm sorry Bea's being mean. I'm sorry. Just, I told Emily at school that you like her sister, and she said it wasn't possible, and I thought… I knew there was only one other person with a 'J' name in your class… and..."

The rest dissolved into watery hiccups. He hugged Sherwin a little closer, and he let him. So, he wasn't the only one who felt guilty about causing harm to someone. Really, they may not have had much in common, but Michael did share that one particular trait with him.

"I'm not going to say that it's ok… Mum was right. It was something that you knew I should have done myself. But now its done, and there's no reason to cry over spilled milk any more. I forgive you, but only if you promise not to do that kind of thing again. Alright?" Sherwin whispered, gently pulling away from Michael and wiping his wet cheeks with his sleeve.

He nodded, and the older boy stood up and turned to leave the room.

"Goodnight Sherwin. Love you, have a nice date," he said drowsily, sleep catching up with him after the exhausting cry he had just had.

"Love you too, Michael. Don't let the bed bugs bite. And I'm not going on a date!"

A soft chuckle was heard just before the door clicked back into place, heating Sherwin's cheeks and making him doubt the real intentions behind his motivation to go over and apologise to Jonathan at this time of night.

"Hey, is he asleep?"

It was Jessica, who had appeared as mysteriously as she had vanished earlier on, clutching a pair of boots in one hand and Sherwin's old worn coat in the other. He took the items from her, responding with a quick nod to her question. He didn't really want to speak to her vocally, still peeved by her breaking in earlier on and frightening the living daylight out of him.

Soon, they were out in the rather chilly night, key to the locked door pocketed and mind wandering elsewhere. Sherwin wasn't really tired, either his objective or the nip of the wind awakening him enough to not think of his warm bed too intently, despite not knowing how far they were to walk to get to Jonathan's home. His mind was focused on what he was going to say to him. Keep it quick, keep it simple, make up some white lie about being rejected by some other person, and be done with it. With Jessica backing him up, he could get though this.

"We're here," the girl in question whispered. The redhead pulled his eyes from the pavement where they had been stuck for the last few minutes, jerking his head up to see that they were in a relatively well-off part of town, the houses all clean and the hedges neatly trimmed. In the house directly in front of them, a single window was indeed lit, illuminating not much apart from the white ceiling in the room beyond. There was a rustle of fabric, Sherwin seeing from the corner of his eye that Jessica was reaching into her pocket for something, before she pulled her arm back to throw whatever she was holding.

The plum pit hit the window with a dull clatter before falling into the garden, the sound softer against the better quality windows than the one that the boy had had to experience himself; in fact, it was so dull that there was a possibility that the person in the room beyond hadn't heard it.

"Wait, how do you know this is his window?" the boy asked in confusion, the thought striking him as the second pit was thrown.

"I know everyone's bedroom window," she answered cryptically, and Sherwin reflected that this girl really was one odd person.

Finally, when the third object knocked against the glass, a shadow flickered into existence, announcing the presence of someone in the room. Sherwin's breath stayed stuck in his lungs, and he quickly weighed the pros and cons of turning tail and sprinting back home, burying into his sheets and never setting foot outside ever again. That project was quickly abandoned though, as Jessica would surely tackle him to the ground and put him into a headlock now that he had come this far.

A figure appeared, silhouetted against the light, and the window rattled once or twice before it opened. The glass had been reflecting the streetlight up until then, making the idea of the person beyond foggy at best. Now though Sherwin could make out his face, the curve of his nose and even the colour of his eyes, flashing in that unmistakablably as he scanned the streets as he himself had no doubt done earlier on.

It wasn't long until Jonathan caught sight of him, freezing him to the spot. Sherwin had never locked eyes with him before, and even across the safe distance that there was between them, he felt crushed, overwhelmed by the simple fact that he had his attention fixed on him right now. He wrenched his gaze away, looking around in a panic for Jessica, but to his dismay she seemed to have left him to his fate.

"Sherwin?"

He squeaked. There was no other way to describe the stupid, stupid sound that he emitted just then, one that he couldn't help but let loose when he heard his name being called by that one voice in particular. He was flustered now, the paralysis he seemed to have been under dissipating as he stuttered something out to cover himself, the reason of his presence here.

"Wait a second, I'll be right down."

The redhead snapped his mouth shut instantly, watching in utter astonishment as Jonathan pulled on a jacket before vaulting over his window ledge, landing with the grace of a cat from a height that would have shattered any normal person's legs. He patted himself down nonchalantly, climbed the fence as easily as if it were a staircase, and finally stood tall in the street, smiling and now only a couple a feet away from the other boy.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked in the same voice, soft for the purpose of not disturbing any sleeping neighbours, to which Sherwin could only offer a hesitant nod. Jonathan took a couple of steps forward, but turned back when he realised that the other boy wasn't following him. His smile intensified, seeming to beckon him forward, and the redhead moved at last, legs stiff now that all the blood had rushed to his cheeks.

They exited the sleepy street onto a small wooded area, a place used as a park even though it didn't hold such a grand denomination. The paths were made of gravel that crunched loudly in the night, putting Sherwin on high alert even though there was no-one here to be woken by such a racket. However, there was nothing else that he could concentrate on for the time being, as he could not move his eyes any further than a foot ahead of the toe of his shoes. If he went any further, he knew that his gaze will be immediately attracted to the person walking by his side, and there was surely no bigger giveaway than a lovestruck gaze.

Fortunately, Jonathan remained silent, so Sherwin didn't have to embarrass himself with spluttered words of explanation as he had before, or not for the time being, anyway. He was starting to wonder where Jonathan was bringing him though, as he had never walked these paths before. Wherever it was, he would follow him though.

The gravel slowly started to become more sparse, leaving way to bare dirt, then to wild grass heavy with dew. Hyperaware as he was of every one of Jonathan's movements, he stopped instantly when the taller boy did, making sure to stay those few feet to the side that would prevent any and all unnecessary contact.

Slowly, Sherwin raised his head, seeking to understand why they had halted their walk. What he saw nearly punched the air out of his lungs, forcing him to gasp a little to keep oxygen at a normal level. In front of him, the town was laid out like a field of stars, mimicking the ones that shone above it. The milky way was perfectly visible, stretching across the inside of the great upturned bowl that was the night sky. Everything was calm, the sounds of the night not quite loud enough to draw one's attention away from the magnificence of the spectacle that the universe was putting on tonight.

They were in a clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides apart for the large space that showed the town down below. On closer inspection, it was revealed to be the edge of a cliff, the drop down sheer and ending on a sinuous road that hugged the side of the rocky wall. With a gulp, Sherwin took a step back, only to bump into something solid which had materialised behind him in the meantime.

He twisted around, sweat breaking out when he found that it was Jonathan. The boy he had bumped into smiled down at him reassuringly, the proximity warming him to the core. The brunet laid a hand on his shoulder, the touch sending electricity dancing through the duffel to the skin beneath, raising a hand to point in the direction of a large flat boulder set in the middle of the clearing, large enough to be used as a bench. Sherwin let himself be led to the rock, the hand withdrawing from his shoulder leaving that one place burning whilst the rest of his body became cold-kissed by the night air.

They sat a little distance away from each other, gazing in the direction of the mix of stars and man-made lights. Again, Sherwin had to stop his eyes from drifting to the left. Really, as beautiful as this was, Jonathan was the only person that he wanted to observe right now. He was close, closer than he could ever hope to get to him, and an occasion like this would most probably never present itself to him ever again…

"What happened?"

The question caught Sherwin off-guard, and as such, he forgot his previous resolution, snapping his head towards Jonathan. As he had expected, those clear blue eyes were more breathtaking than any star that was out there, the beautiful colour a little muted by the low light, but their depth remained unaltered and sucking him in like quicksand.

"Oh, erm..."

The question had registered at last, and he dropped his staring eyes to his hands in his lap. He had to remember his place, the reason for which he had needed to speak to Jonathan in the first place.

"I was turned down, and I didn't take it well. I'm sorry to have bothered everyone, and to have worried you so much," he apologised, the words somehow slipping out more easily than they had with his family. Maybe he was too tired to care any longer. "I found a good hiding place and just… Well, I wasn't in any state to go back to class."

From the corner of his eye, Sherwin saw Jonathan nod. There was nothing more to say, nothing that he was willing to say, anyway.

"Who was this person?" Jonathan asked, voice lower than before, low enough for Sherwin to wonder whether he had misheard him, but there was no mistaking the words in the near-silence they were surrounded by.

He did the only thing that he could in this situation: he remained silent. If he were to open his mouth, his traitorous heart would give him away. He would confess, in one way or another, because lying blatantly to that handsome face, to those eyes like forget-me-nots would be impossible.

Jonathan sighed, stretching in the periphery of the redhead's vision. His own eyes were still focused on his hands, the half-moons of his fingernails quite strikingly white under the starlight. "I was turned down today too," he admitted, and not for the first time today Sherwin was astonished.

"You? Someone turned you down? But..."

"Yes, I was. Well, not really. I could tell that… I wasn't the one, I guess. It happens sometimes, but there's nothing to it. In those situations, there's nothing left to do but move on."

"But… You're not sure!" Sherwin argued. It hurt him to do so, but even though he knew that Jonathan would never accept him, he could at least make sure that he was happy. That's what he wanted, really. If Jonathan was happy, he would be happy, even if he had to force a melancholic smile everytime he saw him with someone else at his arm. "You didn't even ask! Maybe she doesn't feel that way, maybe she's just too shy, or thought that you've already made your choice. Maybe she's hiding under the covers right now, feeling sad because she doesn't know that you return her feelings and… Please, just tell her!"

"You're right," the darker boy interrupted him before he could go on for any longer. "Maybe I should."

He didn't add anything after that, and Sherwin was about to say something more, but that was when it happened.

As concentrated as he was on his steepled fingers, he didn't notice the hand coming up to his face until it cupped his cheek. He was pulled forward, rapidly but very gently, and then there was a butterfly brush against his lips, feverishly warm but so, so soft. It was too brief for him to register any more information about it, but when it withdrew along with the warmth of the hand that had folded along his jaw, he found himself missing it, like it was something that was supposed to be there, but that had been taken away.

Jonathan moved back to his previous position, and that's when everything fell into place. Sherwin's heart was hammering a mile a minute, eager to rip out of its cage of ribs in order to soar up into the stratosphere. His mind, on the contrary, was quite blank. This one action had turned the tables completely, that one fluttery kiss (kiss! Kiss! KISS! Shouted his heart in a never-ending crescendo) had transformed the worst day he had experienced so far in his life into the very best. For some reason, Michael's last words before he had left the house came back to him, and he made the weirdly odd decision to apologise to him later for being wrong.

Whilst his brain was trying to catch up with everything and its implications, Jonathan had gone oddly quiet, the smile he had on his face dissolved and leaving an oddly neutral expression in its wake. Slowly, as Sherwin got a grasp on his bucking and rearing thoughts, he noticed the odd tenseness in Jonathan's shoulders, as he looked out onto the town below with a carefully composed façade to reflect nothing whatsoever.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while, Sherwin having recovered his thought process but not his speech quite yet. "I understand that this is a little sudden, so you are allowed to hurt me if you think I'm worthy of pain; I'll make sure that there'll be no retaliation. I don't deserve much more, really," he murmured, the perfectly clear words igniting an ardent flame in the redhead's chest. He recognised himself there, only all the low self-esteem was carefully buried under layers upon layers of natural talent and an inclination to hide his true self behind a mask. Sherwin was incapable of that, being as easy to read as an open book, but he couldn't let others feel the way that he did. Especially not Jonathan.

"You are not," he chocked out. "Jonathan, you… you…"

"I hope you enjoyed my letter, at least," he cut him off in the same scary monotone. "I'm sorry that I made you go through this. I'm sorry that I am what I am; I can't help it, and I can't help the fact that you were the target of my feelings this one time, and..."

"Jonathan!" Sherwin stopped him, taking hold of both his shoulders suddenly and turning him until he was facing him directly. "Stop! Please… You are perfect, Jonathan. I wrote you a letter as well. I don't know whether you read it, but I put a letter in your locker-" he shook him gently, trying to clear that head of his. "-which was in a white envelope. I signed it with an 'S'. That was me."

At last, something seeped through that mask; his dark eyebrows relaxed from the near-frown they had been scrunched up into, those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes widened, and his jaw slackened a little, teeth no longer grating against each other. It was realisation. He had indeed received and read the letter.

The redhead stopped shaking him, letting his hands fall from where they had been firmly grasping the taller boy's shoulders to rest near his elbows instead, sighing before continuing.

"I like you. I've liked you a lot for a long time, but you were too far away. There was always a crowd of people surrounding you, you were always on the podium, untouchable. Even now, I can't believe… I don't understand. How can someone like you could possibly ever… Ever think they can be with someone like me? You're royalty, I'm a pauper. And you… You risk having to sacrifice your throne if… If you decide to go ahead."

His arms moved, the fabric under Sherwin's hands escaping him, but they were caught before he could have a chance to draw them back to his sides by two other sets fingers, warm and calloused from various sports and activities, yet familiar as they threaded in between his own.

"You've got it all wrong. You're the one who I've admired for years, with your openness, your few yet loyal friends, your willingness to take part in anything good even if you know it's doomed to failure. When you're happy, you show it. When you're sad, angry, anything, you show it, intensely. You've got a loving family, brilliant taste, and… erm…"

He hesitated for a second, fingers twitching and eyes looking away while a smile crept onto his face. "I-I think you're really cute. And handsome. I love the way you fix your uniform."

That was definitely not expected. For some reason, it was only then that his blush decided to kick in, something that he would have expected to happen sooner in light of recent events. Sherwin spluttered, looked away and shielded his face as nonchalantly as he could, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He had to unthread his fingers from Jonathan's for this, so he hesitated for a second, but the other boy let him go without resistance.

"Well… I return the sentiment, even though I'm sure that you've heard it a thousand times before from other people."

"That's fine," Jonathan answered to his handful of muttered words. "It's coming from you, and that's what's important to me."

The redhead let his hand fall, the Jonathan taking advantage of the situation to catch it and to envelope it in the warmth of his fingers. Sherwin looked back up again, just in time to anticipate the extra weight that rested against his chest, Jonathan having slumped against him and was now resting his head against his left side, just above his heart.

"It sounds like a bird," he remarked in a sleepy voice. "A sparrow, maybe. Wild and spontaneous, but shy."

That was pretty accurate. His heart was thumping madly in his chest, and he wondered how Jonathan wasn't deafened by the sound. He just lay there, looking peaceful, eyes reflecting the stars. Sherwin slowly lowered his head to place his chin on the crown of Jonathan's head and rest an arm on his waist to keep him close, and they remained that way, both of them looking out onto the city, watching as the sky's ink seeped away into a paler colour, the stars and lights fading to give way to the light orange hue of early morning. By the time the first rays of sunlight were peeking over the edge of the horizon, however, the boulder stood deserted. One had to follow the path back through the trees, walk on loud, crunchy gravel to find the two people who had been gazing out over the city that night.

They held hands as they walked back the way they came, swinging their joined palms slightly to the rhythm of their steps. The streets were empty, and they didn't lose contact until they stopped in front of Jonathan's home. There, they halted, looking into each other's eyes deeply. Jonathan remarked on the beautiful colour of Sherwin's iris, which sent him into a silent laughing fit at this adorable pot trying to call the kettle black. In this state of giddiness, he leaned forward and pressed his smile to Jonathan's lips, beetroot instantly invading his face once he realised what he had done.

Jonathan reddened too, more than he would have usually, and laughed aloud in the silence of the early morning, quickly returning the peck before turning on his heels and striding up to his front door. He waved at Sherwin, who was struck dumb for a second or so, before he himself waved back enthusiastically. He did so until the door closed on Jonathan, then slowly let his hand fall by his side, clenching it, as if trying to hold there the touch that he had shared on their brief walk back to the inhabited area of the town. Finally, he turned down the street, and he may have been stared at by the early-bird pedestrians as he skipped every few steps he took, and his wobbly smile plastered on his face may have made him look like the greatest idiot ever, but he didn't really care.

Jonathan was happy. He was happy. They were happy together.

And his heart was finally content.

I headcanon the kid on the right in the film as a certain Cristian. And Jess does what she can, in her own awkward way.

Special thanks go to:

Nour, simply because you're the best ^^.

Broc, because… well, let's just say that I like your art. I feel like your blog, as the unofficial fanclub meeting-point that it seems to have become, has taken quite a part in keeping my interest for IAHB alive, well, and healthy, as well as spreading the love for the short to people who might have never known of it. I can only thank you for that.

Jay, for being an absolute pain and bullying me mercilessly until I got this thing published. Thank you, without you this fic would have dragged on and on without ever quite being finished.

MiraculousBlackCat, for nudging me in the right direction when I was short on ideas.

Fedorag, because I don't quite understand how and why you came to admire me so much, and it's sort of overwhelming and thrilling at the same time. Best of luck for everything!

Every single one of you who have reviewed, kudoed, liked, followed… You're all dear to me, be you anonymous or have an account. Without all of you, St. Val's would have remained sequel-less, with the sad ending it had. It's true that these two deserve to be happy, and as the first fic in the archive, it does at least deserve the merit of being a good one.

Finally, a shout-out to those who didn't comment, just dropped by, read the fic, but were too shy or didn't have the capacity to leave a token of their appreciation. I was like you once, and don't worry! I know you're out there, and that's enough for me.

Hoping you enjoyed, and have a nice day!

-Oaky