Francis sat at his desk in the clinic, sleeves rolled to his elbows, brow furrowed as he studied a pair of metal cuffs— Trey’s handcuffs— laid open before him. His golden blonde hair fell into his eyes whenever he leaned too close.
Behind him, the medicine shelves were a disaster. Jars leaned against one another for support, labels faced any direction they pleased, and several things that definitely did not belong there had migrated to the top shelf.
Francis never once reached for the wrong thing.
Bridget rested her hip against Trey’s desk opposite him, arms folded. Her hair fell in loose, layered waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were sharp with amusement.
“They suppress Quanta,” Francis said, turning one cuff slowly in his fingers. “Convenient. I just want to know how.”
Bridget shrugged. “I don’t.”
Francis looked up, turning toward her. “You don’t?”
“I got the material,” she said. “I put it to good use.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Since when does good use mean modifying school-issued restraints beyond regulation so Lancaster can pull his little tricks?”
Bridget tilted her head. “By good use, I mean that idiot paid me a bucket of Florets.”
Francis paused. “…A bucket?”
“An entire bucket.”
“Truly an idiot.”
She grinned. “Hey. Black-market acquisition. I charge for the risk.”
He stared at her flatly. “Risk? Bridget—you are the black market.”
She considered that. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”
Francis sighed and turned back to the cuffs, thumb tracing the unfamiliar metal. “What’s so special about it, then?”
“No idea,” Bridget said. “Silver, mostly. Mixed with something else. Don’t ask me what—it doesn’t have a name I recognize. Slipped out of Ironhart somehow.”
Francis’s fingers stilled.
“Some experimental alloy,” Bridget went on. “Came out of the castle, apparently.”
Francis frowned. “The castle?”
“That’s the rumor. Some craftsman—merchant, blacksmith, who knows—tried to impress the King. Didn’t work.”
“So it was scrapped.”
“And somehow,” Bridget shrugged, “scrap has a habit of wandering. To me.”
Francis exhaled slowly. “So,” he said, “you don’t actually know how it works.”
“Nope. But I do know how to put it in a good—”
“You are not makeshifting Lancaster anything else,” he snapped, pushing to his feet.“Do you know how many times I’ve had to clean up his mess? I can’t—”
“Oh please,” Bridget cut in. “You’re low-key enjoying his mess.”
“I am not—”
She raised her voice just enough to shut him down. “And by good use, I mean I’ll give you some pieces to experiment with. Free of charge.”
Francis hesitated.
“Consider it payment,” she added lightly, gesturing at the herbs and potions crowding the shelves, “for all of your services.”
He exhaled, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “…Fair trade?”
“Fair trade.”
Neither of them knew anything about fair trade, apparently.
Francis barely had time to turn before a knock came at the door and Luna stepped in, her eyes already scanning the room.
“Sorry,” she said softly. “Is Trey here?”
“No,” Francis said, “but he went beyond.”
Luna sighed. “What did he do this time?”
“No—I mean he went up to the roof.”
She blinked. “What? How?”
“Go out onto the balcony,” Francis said, already turning back to his desk. “The wall to the left has a patch of ivy running up it. You’re light. You’ll climb up just fine.”
Luna had never thought she’d sign up for this, but she went anyway. She was still a little upset with Trey, but she cared about him too much to ignore it.
She found the greenery, looked up, then down, swallowed, and started her way up.
The leaves rattled softly as she climbed.
Her fingers slipped once on the damp stone, and for a heartbeat she thought she’d fall—
A hand shot down and caught her wrist.
“Trey—!”
He hauled her up with ease, setting her beside him on the flatter surface of the roof. She barely had time to catch her breath before she realized he’d been lying there before she arrived.
His grey-blue eyes were shadowed, but still bright in the starlight.
Luna bent forward, hands on her knees, breathless.
“Whatcha doing up here?”
Trey sat up, didn’t answer right away.
For a moment, starlight touched her face, and to him, she looked impossibly bright. Brighter than the sky above. Brighter than anything he’d let himself want.
He swallowed.
“I’m… thinking about something.”
Since the day he met her.
He’d thought she was a pitiful, brave girl back then—too stubborn to quit, too small to carry the weight she did.
She turned out to be so cool. Someone he felt comfortable around.
Someone he could call a friend.
Then she became someone he trusted.
Someone who made grief loosen its grip just by being there.
Someone who trusted him—despite him being a failure.
Someone he had to see at least twice a day, or the world felt off-balance.
The one he was desperately attracted to.
Look at her.
Who would have thought someone this passionate, this gorgeous, would jump off a cliff for me?
She had become the one person he never wanted to live without.
The realization hit him in the chest, hollow and sharp.
I can’t keep these feelings to myself anymore.
And I can’t tell her either.
I’m not as brave as she is. I can’t take that risk.
Seeing his grim expression, something ached behind Luna’s ribs. She pulled her scarf tighter as the wind worried at the fabric.
“Is the something Mira?” she asked quietly.
He sighed. A sound like something heavy finally leaving his chest.
See? I’m acting like a coward, and she still climbed a wall to come check on me.
“Probably.”
She hugged her knees, watching him carefully.
“How about it?”
He blinked. “Actually… not really.” His jaw tightened. “I was thinking about how much of a failure I am.”
How unworthy I am of you.
“What?!” Luna snapped.
“I risked your life falling from the cliff,” he went on.
“No, Trey,” Luna said immediately. “I risked my life diving off that cliff.”
“It’s the same,” he said quietly. “The same way I risked Mira’s life back then. And I can’t stop thinking that I should’ve been better.”
“That’s not how this works,” Luna said. “Stop calling yourself that.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“But someone disappeared because I didn’t act.”
The wind filled the silence.
“It was a choice,” Trey said. “I could’ve chosen differently.”
She turned to him fully, eyes locked on his.
“Have you ever considered the alternative, Trey?”
“Yes,” he said instantly. “Every day. What if I went with her? What if I didn’t abandon her? What if I’m better than this?”
Luna shook her head slowly.
“No. Not that one.” Her hands came up, gripping his arms. “The other alternative.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t—”
“I’m talking about the one where you go,” she said, voice fierce now, “and vanish with her.”
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
It had never once crossed his mind.
“And if that was the case,” Luna continued, steady as steel, “I don’t think Mira would have wanted you to follow her.”
“How do you—”
“Because if I were her,” she said, unwavering, “I would never, ever want you to disappear.”
Something inside him cracked.
All the guilt, the fear, the quiet self-hatred, the year he’d spent thinking he was a mistake.
For the first time, he considered that he mattered. That someone wanted him here.
That someone would fight for him to stay.
The stars blurred.
To him, Luna was the sun.
He didn’t need to see Quanta to know it.
Right now she shone so brightly that every fear fled.
His hands moved before he thought, cupping her face, thumbs trembling against her skin.
He hesitated.
Damage control later.
Then he kissed her.
Soft.
Shaking.
Desperate and reverent, like a promise he’d locked away for years.
He pulled back just enough to breathe.
Waiting for her to push him away.
To stiffen.
To remind him he’d misread everything.
But she didn’t.
She stayed.
Warm. Still. Letting him.
His pulse roared in his ears.
He leaned in and kissed her again—careful, deeper—then pulled back just enough to see her face.
Her eyes were half-lidded, breath uneven.
Not resisting.
So he kissed her again.
Once.
Twice.
A third time because he couldn’t help it.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard, foreheads nearly touching.
Trey huffed a breathy laugh, voice low and unsteady.
“Great. First I fall off a cliff. Now I fall for you.”
Luna froze.
The words landed before she could prepare for them.
The tension she’d been carrying since the cliff gave way all at once.
Since the quiet distance. The careful avoidance. Since the fear that he was already pulling away, that grief had claimed him first and she was about to lose him without ever being told she had.
Her laugh slipped out, soft and unsteady, carrying more relief than humor.
Hearing him say that made something warm bloom in her chest, spreading too fast to stop. Relief came first—sharp and dizzy—followed by something steadier. Something that felt like being seen without having to explain herself.
Trey Lancaster had fallen for her.
And she had fallen hard for him too.
Luna huffed a small laugh, shaking her head.
“You say that,” she said, lightly, “and you’ve been avoiding me all week.”
Trey winced. “If I didn’t,” he admitted, “I would’ve kissed you by Monday.”
She laughed again—this time brighter—and Trey chuckled too, the sound barely there, before pulling her in. Not for another kiss. Just a hug. A full one. He buried his face in her hair like he needed the reminder that she was real.
“Come to think of it,” he muttered, “I was such an idiot.”
She snorted. “You still are. It’s your brand.”
He laughed properly at that, arms tightening around her. “Thanks for not giving up on me, Luna.”
“There was no try in that,” she said easily, leaning into him. “You’re the easiest person I’ve ever had to live with.”
He huffed. “Considering your old life, I don’t think that was quite the compliment you think it is.”
She laughed hard, shoulders shaking.
The wind picked up, sharp and cold. Trey frowned, then shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around both of them, tugging her closer. As he did, his gaze dipped—and caught on the scarf at her neck.
Worn. Soft. Clearly old.
Not his.
His grip loosened slightly. His voice dropped.
“That piece of fabric again?” he asked, trying and failing to sound casual. “You really like wearing it. What’s the guy’s name again? Noah?”
“Noel.”
The name landed heavier than it should have.
Trey knew Noel—the boy from the orphanage. Luna had told him once. The one who sat with her when she cried.
The one who’d been there before Trey ever was.
Something inside him twisted.
Without quite meaning to, he reached out and tugged gently at the scarf, unwinding it just enough to hold it in his hands. He stared at it like it had personally offended him by existing.
“I know he was there for you,” Trey said quietly. “I’m… glad he was.”
He swallowed. “But I’m here now.”
Luna blinked. Her heartbeat stuttered.
Trey looked away almost immediately, jaw tightening, uncertainty bleeding through his voice as he added, “I’m not saying forget him. Just—” He swallowed. “Let me be the one you reach for now.”
She didn’t hesitate.
She took his hand and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
“You already are.”
Trey went still.
Then something in him eased—completely. He pulled her close again, not fierce this time. Just quiet. Anchored. Like he was afraid that if he let go, the moment might slip away.
Luna exhaled, letting herself sink into the warmth of his hold—just for a moment.
Then she frowned.
“And if you’re going to talk about the past,” she said firmly, flicking his forehead, “you have to stop thinking about Mira too.”
Trey blinked. “Wha—?”
She pulled back just enough to glare at him and poked his chest for emphasis. “You don’t get to hold me while thinking about someone else. I’m not competing with a ghost. Get over it.”
He raised an eyebrow, expression unreadable for a second.
“I’m not competing with Noel either,” Trey said evenly. Then, with a crooked grin, “Besides—Mira was a friend. And a pain in the ass. Unlike you, my sweet little sunflower.”
She snorted. “You don’t get to call me that!”
“And who does?” he asked, smirking. “Noel?”
“Stop talking about him!”
“Then stop acting like he exists!”
Her hands clenched in her lap. “He still exists!”
Trey sighed, caught off guard. “Yeah… that one’s on me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But quit thinking about him already!”
Luna threw up her hands.
“He was a kid,” she said. “Why do you act like he’s my boyfriend?”
Trey’s brows lifted, surprised. “A kid? Good.” He leaned in slightly, voice low and certain. “So no one gets to be your boyfriend but me.”
Her entire face went scarlet. “Y—you—!”
She didn’t get to finish.
Because Trey moved.
He kissed her—fast and sure this time. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Her hands stalled mid-shove… then curled into his shirt instead.
He pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against hers.
“Argument over?” he murmured.
“Shut it, Lancaster,” she grumbled, still breathless.
“Gladly.”
He kissed her again.
They climbed back down the ivy, one after the other.
Luna landed first—steady.
Trey landed second—slightly less steady, but grinning like the world had finally aligned.
Inside, Francis, Ermin, Blake, Reid, Bluebell, and Abel were scattered around the room, very convincingly pretending they had nothing better to do.
They all stopped mid-conversation.
Stared.
Francis’s lips twitched. He cleared his throat then said loudly.
“Why are both your lips swollen?”
Luna froze like she’d been shot. “I—I—”
Trey didn’t.
He grinned. Big. Unashamed. Radiant.
“I kissed her,” he said cheerfully. “Repeatedly.”
The room erupted.
“TOO MUCH INFORMATION,” Ermin shouted.
“Finally!” Bluebell crowed.
Reid grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at Trey. “Don’t say repeatedly out loud, you ox!”
Luna just stared at Trey.
Heat bloomed across her cheeks, ears burning, heartbeat roaring in her chest—
But her shoulders relaxed.
Because he hadn’t hesitated.
He hadn’t tried to hide it.
And worse—he looked proud.
Trey glanced back at her, his grin gentling just a little, and mouthed silently:
I meant it.
Luna tried very hard not to combust.
Francis closed his eyes for a minute. “…I should have let the injury kill you.”
Trey clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, still beaming. “You’ll be stuck with me your whole life, Doc.”
Francis stared, deadpan, silently promising to make Trey’s life as irritating as possible.
Then Blake stood.
He crossed the room in three long strides and slammed a hand down on Trey’s shoulder.
“Walk with me.”
Trey blinked. “What?”
“Boyfriend debrief,” Blake said, already dragging him toward the hallway. “Emergency protocol.”
“I REGRET NOTHING!” Trey called back as he was hauled away.
Blake shoved him against the wall like he was interrogating a war criminal.
Trey briefly wondered since when Blake had the audacity to advise him on relationships—but decided not to test it.
“Rule one,” Blake said gravely. “When she’s mad, apologize immediately. Even if she’s wrong.”
“Okay, but what if she—”
“Rule two,” Blake continued, ignoring him. “If she says she’s fine, she’s not fine. Bring food.”
“Noted.”
Okay, this man is going somewhere. Trey admitted.
“Rule three,” Blake said, gripping Trey’s shoulders harder, “do not die before marriage. It’s rude.”
“Before what—”
“And if she ever headbutts you—”
“She already did that.”
Blake’s face lit up with pride. “GOOD. She likes you.”
“Rule five,” Blake went on. “When she insults you, it means she cares. If she stops insulting you? You’re dead. Fix it.”
“…Okay, but where is rule four—”
“RULE SIX,” Blake barked, cutting him off. “Do not let her starve. Hunger is the enemy. Feed her before she realizes she’s hungry or it’s over.”
“…Preemptive snacks,” Trey said slowly. “Got it.”
Damn it. Luna always grabs snacks for me.
“Rule seven,” Blake added, leaning closer. “Build muscle. Not for combat. For carrying her when she’s mad.”
“She does kick when angry.”
“They always do,” Blake said, his deep green eyes soften.
He released Trey—then tightened his grip again.
“And rule eight,” Blake said solemnly. “The only one that matters.”
Trey tensed. “…What?”
Blake’s expression sobered.
“If she ever cries,” he said quietly, “don’t panic. Don’t run. Don’t try to fix it. Just… stay. Stay beside her.”
Trey stared at him, completely speechless.
Then Blake ruined the moment instantly.
“And if all else fails,” he added, grinning like a lunatic, “kiss her until she forgets why she’s mad.”
“I—that sounds—”
Blake patted Trey’s cheek like a proud uncle.
“Go be her problem now.”
