lizardash

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In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 20

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Shadow Milk Cookie stilled as your fingers brushed against his hand. A rare hesitation flickered across his expression, golden eyes flickering between your touch and your face, as if weighing the weight of what you had just done what you had just said. You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around his own before you lost the nerve. “I know you’re not leaving yet,” you murmured. “But when you do… I want to be there.” 

His gaze softened, just barely. You exhaled, steadying yourself. “I know, in the grand span of your existence, I’m just…” You hesitated, struggling to find the right words. 

“I know I’m small. A fleeting part of something much bigger. But… even if it’s just for a little while, I want to be part of that.”

A breath. A pause. Your heart pounded in the silence. Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t pull away. He didn’t move at all, save for the slight way his fingers flexed beneath yours, as if he, too, was coming to terms with what this moment meant. “You think yourself small,” he said finally, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it. “Do you truly believe that?”

You bit your lip. “Aren’t I?” He exhaled slowly, his free hand curling into a loose fist against the desk. His voice, when he spoke again, was measured careful, deliberate.

“Your existence does not need to stretch across centuries to hold weight.” Your breath hitched. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, gently almost hesitantly he turned his palm beneath yours, letting your fingers settle properly against his own. 

His grip wasn’t tight, wasn’t overwhelming. Just steady. “I cannot promise you eternity, you don’t have eternity” he murmured. 

“But… I will not turn you away from the time I can offer.” 

You squeezed his hand, blinking hard against the sudden sting in your eyes. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, his gaze as unreadable as ever yet, for once, you felt like you understood him perfectly. And, for now, that was enough.Your fingers trembled slightly as they curled around his, grounding yourself in the warmth of his touch. He didn’t pull away didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat behind carefully constructed walls of logic and reason. But he also didn’t answer, not immediately. You exhaled.

“You won’t be leaving for the Spire for a long time…I know that.” Your voice was steadier than you expected, though the weight in your chest only grew heavier with each word. “But when you do… if you do… I don’t want to be just another passing thought in your long existence.”

Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flickered, something unreadable shifting in the depths of his golden eyes. “I want to be there,” you continued, gripping his hand just a little tighter. “For however long I can be.” A slow inhale. His fingers curled around yours, but his expression remained frustratingly composed. “You have always have a choice,” he murmured. “I would never-” 

“I know that,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “I know you’d never ask me for anything. But what if I want to be here? What if I don’t care how small a part of your life I am?” 

His lips parted slightly, but you pressed on, unwilling to let him slip away this time. “What do you want me to be?” you asked, flipping the question back on him. “Not what I think, not what I assume. What do you want?”

Silence. Not the kind that stretched into avoidance or the kind he wielded like a shield when words became too dangerous. This was different. He was considering it. 

You swallowed, watching him closely. “Do you want me to be just another student? Another scholar you’ve guided, another moment in time that passes?” Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled, slow and measured, as if he were calculating every possible outcome before speaking.

 “You know I don’t waste my time on things that do not matter,” he finally said.

 “That’s not an answer.” His fingers tightened just slightly over yours. “It is the only answer I can give.”

 You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath your ribs. “No. No, it’s not. You-you don’t hesitate like this. You always know what to say, so why-” 

“Because you do matter.” Your breath hitched. His voice was quieter now, but no less certain. “That is what frightens me.” Your grip faltered. He did not let go. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze was steady, unwavering. “You ask what we are,” he murmured. “And yet, even if I were to name it, even if I were to claim something beyond what is already unspoken… what would it change?” 

“…Everything,” you whispered. He inhaled sharply. The silence that followed was deafening. Then, in a voice barely above a breath, he admitted, “Perhaps that is what I fear the most.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. He had always known the answer of course he had. But saying it aloud? Acknowledging it, accepting it? That was the truth neither of you had dared to face. You swallowed hard. “Then let’s face it.”

 Shadow Milk Cookie’s fingers curled more securely around yours, as if anchoring himself. And this time, he didn’t argue. You exhaled, a small, breathy laugh escaping despite the weight pressing against your chest.

 “Okay,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly, a teasing lilt threading through your voice. “Let’s pretend, then.” 

Shadow Milk Cookie blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone. “Pretend?” You nodded, squeezing his hand just slightly. “Just for a moment. Let’s say you’re not the Sage of Truth. You’re not immortal. You’re just… you. Just Shadow Milk.” 

His expression didn’t change at first, but something in his posture shifted something small, nearly imperceptible, like the brief flicker of candlelight in a draft. “And what would that change?” he asked quietly. You shrugged. “Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.” You let out a soft hum, letting your fingers brush over his palm absentmindedly. “It means you don’t have to worry about forever. It means we don’t have to think about centuries, or what happens when I’m gone. It means we’re just… here. Right now.”

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak. “You always ask me questions,” you mused, tilting your head. “So here’s one for you, Shadow Milk. If we were both mortal, if time wasn’t something hanging over us like a stormcloud… what would you want?” His fingers twitched against yours. His golden eyes, so often filled with certainty, wavered for the briefest second. 

“…I do not know,” he admitted.

 You let out a quiet chuckle. “Liar.” His gaze snapped back to you, startled, and you laughed outright this time, shaking your head. “You always know, Shadow Milk. You knew the answer before I even asked. But you don’t want to say it, because saying it makes it real.” 

His grip on your hand tightened firm, grounding, as if he needed something solid to hold onto. “Words are powerful things,” he murmured. “They shape reality. They define truths.”

 You smiled, softer now. “Then define this. Just for today, just for right now. No centuries, no titles. Just you and me. What are we?” Shadow Milk Cookie inhaled deeply, his gaze searching yours as if looking for an escape, a loophole something that would let him evade the truth he had spent so long avoiding. But there was none. For once, the Sage of Truth had been backed into a corner. And you weren’t letting him go.

A beat of silence stretched between you, thick and unspoken. His fingers were still wrapped around yours, warm and steady, but he had yet to answer. You exhaled, tilting your head slightly, a teasing lilt creeping into your voice as you murmured, “This is where they kiss. You know, like real people do.”

 Shadow Milk Cookie froze. It was barely noticeable just the slightest hitch in his breath, the way his fingers twitched against yours, the way his golden eyes flickered with something unreadable. Then, slowly, he exhaled. A soft, measured thing. “Is that so?” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the way your pulse hammered in your throat betrayed you. “That’s how it usually goes,” you mused, your thumb brushing absently over the back of his hand. 

“A conversation like this. A moment like this.” You looked up at him, searching his face. “That’s what happens next.”

 His expression didn’t shift, not entirely, but his grip on your hand tightened just slightly, just enough for you to notice. “A logical conclusion,” he murmured. “And yet…”

 You raised a brow. “And yet?” 

Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze held yours, unwavering. “You are not speaking in absolutes,” he noted, quiet and thoughtful. “Not this time.”

Your breath caught. He was right. You weren’t saying this is what we should do. You weren’t making a move, weren’t leaning in like this was some storybook ending. You had simply left it in the air, dangling between you like a choice waiting to be made. And he knew that. Of course, he knew that. Your heart pounded as he studied you, the weight of his attention pressing down on you like a question you weren’t sure how to answer. You swallowed. “Would you want that?”

 The words were quieter than before, softer, hesitant in a way that made them feel more real. “If we were-” You gestured vaguely between you. “If we were just people.”

 Shadow Milk Cookie’s thumb ghosted over your knuckles, the barest movement. He didn’t answer right away. Then, finally, he murmured, “Perhaps.” Perhaps. 

The word settled over you like a slow-burning ember, curling warm in your chest. It wasn’t a yes. It wasn’t a no. It was something more dangerous. Something real. Your fingers curled slightly around his, your voice barely above a whisper now.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips parted just slightly, just enough for you to see the words forming behind his teeth, the answer he hadn’t yet spoken. But he didn’t say it. Not yet. You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close you were, of the way your fingers curled around his without thinking. Where had that boldness even come from? It wasn’t like you wasn’t like you at all to say something so forward.

Your grip slackened, but Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t let go. His hold was steady, grounding, as if he had already anticipated the moment you would retreat into yourself. You exhaled, barely a whisper of a laugh escaping you. “I don’t know why I said that.” 

Your voice was quieter now, tinged with something unsure, something fragile. Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head, watching you with quiet amusement, though there was a softness there too. “Then take it back,” he murmured.

 You hesitated. You could. You could laugh it off, call it a joke, shift the moment into something safer, something easier. But the words still hung in the air, lingering like an unanswered question. Your fingers twitched against his. “…Do you want me to?” That was what it all came down to, wasn’t it? His expression remained unreadable for a moment longer before something in him shifted, something quieter, something almost careful. “No,” he said, just as soft. Your breath hitched. You weren’t expecting him to say that not so plainly, not so surely.

You lowered your gaze, heart pounding, the heat crawling up your neck making it impossible to meet his eyes. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.” The confession left you before you could stop it. “I don’t even know why I said that-I wasn’t thinking-” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled, low and thoughtful. “Clearly.” You groaned, covering your face with your free hand. 

“You don’t have to agree so fast.” A pause, and then you felt him shift ever so slightly closer. 

“And yet,” he mused, “you haven’t let go.” You hadn’t. Your fingers were still tangled with his, caught in that moment of hesitation. Your pulse thundered in your ears. “I-” You swallowed, suddenly feeling impossibly small beneath the weight of his attention. 

You shook your head, trying to find something to say, anything that could make this feel less overwhelming. “I just-just pretend, okay? Pretend we’re-” You stopped yourself, heat crawling higher up your neck. 

Shadow Milk Cookie arched a brow, waiting. “Pretend we’re what?” You squeezed your eyes shut, mortified. “…Just pretend we’re both mortal.”

 Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Pretend you’re not the Sage of Truth. That you’re just-just Shadow Milk.” 

Silence. You didn’t dare look at him. Then, after what felt like an eternity, you heard him exhale, something slow and deliberate. “…Very well.”

 His voice was softer now, still measured, still precise, but holding something gentler at the edges. You dared a peek at him, only to find his golden gaze fixed on you steady, patient, but different now. Not as a mentor, not as the Sage of Truth. Just him.

 Your fingers curled a little tighter around his, your heart hammering in your chest. “Okay,” you breathed.

 Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, tilting his head slightly, his voice quiet as he asked, “And now?” You had no idea. But for now, this the warmth of his hand in yours, the moment held between you was enough.

You let out a shaky breath, your pulse a wild, stammering thing beneath your skin. You couldn't believe you were about to say this couldn’t believe you had even thought it. And yet, the words came anyway, tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. "We should just kiss… like real people do." 

The moment the sentence left your mouth, you regretted it. Heat surged up your neck, crawling up your face so fast you thought you might actually die of embarrassment. What had possessed you to say that? Shadow Milk Cookie stilled. The silence that followed was suffocating. You wanted to take it back. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. You wanted-Then he exhaled. Soft, measured. A slow release of breath that sent a shiver through you. And when you finally dared to look up at him, really look at him, your stomach flipped. Because he wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t even giving you that knowing, amused look that usually accompanied your flustered remarks.

No, his gaze was something else entirely. Something bare. Something unguarded. Shadow Milk Cookie who always carried himself with such composure, who always wielded words like blades and knowledge like armor; was not shielding himself now. He was allowing himself this moment. Allowing himself to want. Your breath hitched. His golden eyes, so sharp in their scrutiny, softened not in amusement, not in calculation, but in something deeply, impossibly tender. Something that made your chest ache. “…You say the most dangerous things,” he murmured at last, voice as steady as ever, yet so much warmer than before.

Your entire body burned. “Don’t say it like that-” His lips curled slightly, and yet there was no deflection, no teasing edge. Instead, his fingers, still lightly curled around yours, tightened just enough to hold you here. Just enough to make sure this moment this fragile, terrifying, inevitable moment did not slip away. Shadow Milk Cookie was never one to rush, never one to move without certainty. But this time, there was no hesitation. 

No grand declaration. No warning. Just the quiet, steady motion of him leaning in of his lips brushing against yours in a touch so deliberate, so unshaken, that it felt more like a truth than a kiss. A truth neither of you had spoken aloud. But one you had both known all along. Your heart stopped then raced, breath stuttering as you melted into the feeling, as you let yourself fall into it, into him. For just a moment- There was no Sage of Truth. No fleeting mortal life against eternity.

No barriers at all. Just you and him. Your fingers curled tighter around his, a tether between you and something vast, something terrifying. A bridge across the unfathomable expanse of time itself. You held on as if the moment would dissolve the second you loosened your grip, as if he were sand slipping through your fingers, as if he were the wind that would slip away the second you forgot to chase it. Shadow Milk Cookie did not pull away.

He could have. He could have met your touch with the cool distance of a scholar observing, the quiet dismissal of a man who had seen centuries pass and would see centuries more. But instead, he stayed. His fingers flexed once, his palm pressing against yours, grounding you both in something real, something fleeting, something infinite. His voice, when it came, was soft softer than the morning hush before dawn, softer than the reverence of untouched parchment waiting for ink. “You fear letting go.” 

Not a question. A truth spoken aloud, as though he could taste it on his tongue. You swallowed, nodding. Your throat ached with words you weren’t brave enough to speak, with the weight of something too fragile to name. “Yes.”

 He exhaled, a slow and measured thing, his thumb brushing once across your knuckles, like the stroke of a calligrapher’s pen, careful and deliberate. “You will not lose this.” Your breath shuddered, and you hated how easily he unraveled you. Hated how effortlessly he saw through you, how he could speak the one thing you had tried to convince yourself of and make it sound like it had been written into the stars long before you had the courage to wonder. 

“But…” You hesitated, your grip tightening. “I’m afraid that if I let go, this moment will disappear. That I will wake up tomorrow and realize I imagined it. That I will turn back and find you already gone.” Your voice was quiet, a whisper in the space between you, but it landed heavy, enough to pull down constellations. His expression shifted something small, something imperceptible to anyone but you.

The careful composure of the Sage of Truth faltered, peeled back by something older, something deeper. His gaze swept over your face, and then, as if sealing something sacred, something too delicate to disturb he lifted your joined hands, cradling them between his own, reverent as a scholar handling a fragile manuscript, as a believer holding an unspoken prayer. “Then do not let go,” he murmured. It was not a demand. It was not even an answer. It was an offering.

Your breath stilled. Because the truth was there, nestled between the cracks of time, between your fingers laced with his. It was in the way his hands did not tremble but held steady, like an anchor against the tide. It was in the way his eyes softened, no longer gilded with the weight of wisdom, but something rawer, something human.

For the first time, you did not see the Sage of Truth, the scholar who would outlive ages, the man carved into history’s pages. You saw him. And that terrified you. But not enough to let go. Your fingers curled against his, grounding yourself in his warmth, in the undeniable realness of this moment. You swallowed, words gathering at the edge of your tongue, unspoken but waiting aching to be said. “The Spire of Knowledge…” you began, voice quieter than you meant it to be. His golden gaze flickered, watching you carefully, waiting. You took a breath, steadying yourself before continuing, “I want to go with you.” 

The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy, like the pause between turning pages of a book whose ending you were afraid to reach. Shadow Milk Cookie did not answer immediately. He did not deflect, did not twist your words back on you as he so often did. Instead, his thumb brushed absently along the back of your hand, slow and deliberate, as if considering something weighty, something fragile. “You would leave the Academy,” he mused, the words more observation than question. You nodded. “If it meant being there.”

 Another pause. His fingers curled ever so slightly around yours, and for a brief moment, you thought he might say yes. “You seek knowledge?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Or something else?”

 You hesitated. You knew the answer. And so did he. “…Both,” you admitted. His lips parted, as if to speak, but then he exhaled through his nose, a slow, measured thing. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. 

“You know that it will not be the same.” You blinked up at him. “I don’t expect it to be.” 

He regarded you for a long moment, his gaze searching. “You wish to follow me.” 

“Yes.” 

“To learn?” 

“Yes.” 

“To stay?” 

Your breath caught in your throat. A beat of silence. Then, carefully, he continued, 

“Even knowing that I am as I am?”

 You swallowed, nodding. “Even knowing that.”

His expression did not falter, but something in his gaze shifted something small, something you couldn’t quite place. A hesitation, perhaps. Or maybe something deeper, something unspoken, something close to fear. “I do not know if I can allow it.” 

Your stomach twisted. “Why?” His fingers, still entwined with yours, flexed slightly a reflex, maybe, as if steadying himself. “Because I do not wish to be the reason you leave behind the life you have built.” 

You shook your head. “I’m not leaving behind anything.” He exhaled, as if to say, You are. You bit your lip. “You once said you do not waste words,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “So tell me, honestly…if I went, would you want me there?” 

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression, too brief to name. Then, so softly you almost missed it “Yes.”

 Your breath stilled. The word settled between you, heavy and quiet, a truth neither of you had dared to voice until now. You wet your lips, trying to steady yourself. “Then let me prove myself.” Shadow Milk Cookie blinked. “If you truly cannot allow it now,” you continued, pressing forward before doubt could take root, “then let me earn it. You’re always telling me to seek truth, to strive for knowledge…so let me show you I’m worthy of the Spire.”

 A pause. Then, his gaze softened. Not in amusement, not in pity, but in quiet consideration. “…You would do this?” he murmured. “For the chance to follow me?” 

You held his gaze. “I would.” He studied you for a long, breathless moment. Then, slowly, his lips curled into something small so small, but unmistakably real. “Then prove it.” Your chest tightened, something warm curling beneath your ribs. “I will.” His fingers remained in yours a moment longer before, with painstaking gentleness, he loosened his grip just enough to allow you the choice to hold on or let go. You didn’t let go.

Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze remained steady, unreadable, as he listened. His fingers still lingered in yours, the warmth of his hand grounding you, but his expression betrayed nothing. He was listening, but you knew that whatever conclusion he reached, he would not speak it before he was ready. 

Taking a slow breath, you pressed forward. “I have to go with a research lab anyway for the fall semester,” you explained. “It’s part of my studies part of my path. If the Spire is taking in students for research, then… if I applied, if my friends applied, none of us would have to give anything up.” A long silence stretched between you.

 You could hear your own heartbeat, the sound of your own breath. Finally, Shadow Milk Cookie’s golden eyes flickered, shifting from yours to some distant place beyond the room, as if weighing the possibility against every law of reason and logic. His thumb brushed absently over the back of your hand, a reflexive movement, slow and thoughtful. “You would truly consider this?” he murmured, voice quieter now. “Not only for me, but for yourselves?” 

You nodded. “It wouldn’t be throwing anything away. It would be a step forward. Just… a different one than I originally thought.” He exhaled through his nose, his grip on your hand tightening for the briefest moment before he pulled back not out of rejection, but out of the need for space to think, to weigh, to decide. “The Spire’s research program is going to be rigorous,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Only the most dedicated students will be considered.”

 “I know.” You straightened. “And I can prove I belong there.” His gaze flickered back to you, searching, as if waiting for hesitation to crack through your resolve. It didn’t. You had already made up your mind. “Your friends,” he said slowly. “Do they know?”

 “Not yet.” You hesitated. “But I know them. They’ll want to go, too.” Shadow Milk Cookie leaned back in his chair, studying you with the same careful precision he always did except now, there was something else, something softer, something almost hesitant. “…It would not be an easy path.”

 “It never has been.” You smiled, though your chest was tight. “But that’s never stopped me before.” His lips parted slightly, as if he meant to speak to refute, to agree, you weren’t sure but he hesitated. The Sage of Truth had no immediate answer. You could feel it. The weight of something shifting. The possibility of something real. Finally, he inhaled slowly, deliberately, and nodded. “Then we shall see what the future holds.”

Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze didn’t waver. His fingers, warm and steady around yours, curled just slightly, as if to tether you both to this moment this fragile, trembling thing balanced between truth and uncertainty. “You wish for a name,” he murmured, voice softer than you had ever heard it. “Very well.”

 You held your breath. He lifted your intertwined hands slightly, the faintest smile ghosting the edges of his lips not a scholar’s smile, not the measured amusement of the Sage of Truth, but something quieter. Something that belonged only to him. “You are not a fleeting moment,” he said, as though carving the words into existence. “Nor a passing thought. Nor a scholar I merely guide.” His thumb traced absently against the back of your hand, reverent in its slowness. “You are the one who has unraveled me.”

Your chest tightened, breath catching in your throat. Shadow Milk Cookie was not a man who spoke lightly. Every word he uttered was deliberate, measured, a truth only spoken when he was ready for it to be known. And now, here he was, offering it freely, without hesitation.

“You are the one I have chosen to see,” he continued, voice steady, yet so unbearably tender. “And if you will have me” his gaze held yours, unwavering “then you are mine, as I am yours.” It was not a question. It was an answer. The only answer. Your fingers tightened around his instinctively, and his smile small, barely there softened at the edges, like candlelight flickering in the dark. “You asked me what we are,” he murmured, as if drawing the words from the very air between you. His free hand lifted, the faintest brush of his fingertips against your cheek light, fleeting, as if even he was afraid this moment might shatter if he dared press harder. “We are something true,” he whispered. “Something that will not fade.”

 Your heart stilled. And then, before you could even think to stop yourself, you surged forward, closing the distance between you. You pulled away, voice unsteady. “Even when I’m gone?” The words were barely a whisper. “Even then?” His eyes searched yours, as if mapping the shape of your uncertainty, the fear tucked between your ribs like a delicate thing you were too afraid to hold. And then, quietly, he answered. 

“Yes.” The weight of it settled into your bones. A truth spoken with the same certainty he had always carried, as if there were no hesitation, no room for doubt. As if the inevitability of time did not change the way he felt. Your fingers trembled against his, but he held firm. “You speak as if my truth is bound by time,” he murmured, his voice something softer than you had ever heard. “As if it will wither in your absence.”

 Your throat tightened. “Won’t it?” He exhaled, and though his gaze remained steady, you saw something deep in it, something almost terrifying in its certainty. “No,” he said simply. “Because it is you.” 

A shiver ran down your spine. “I will exist for centuries more,” he continued, as if laying the words carefully, reverently at your feet. “And yet, for the first time, I find myself bound not by knowledge, but by you.” You tried to breathe, tried to process the weight of what he was saying, but it was impossible. Because he was looking at you like you were something real, something permanent, despite everything you weren’t.

 You swallowed. “That’s unfair.”

 “Perhaps,” he murmured. “And yet, it is truth.” Your fingers curled against his palm, your chest tight with something you weren’t sure had a name. You had thought, no feared that one day, you would become nothing more than a footnote in his long, unyielding existence. That he would outlive you, move forward as he always had, and one day, you would be just another fragment of memory. 

But this felt different. “…Even then?” you whispered again, afraid to believe it. Shadow Milk Cookie, the Sage of Truth, the one who had always held the answers you weren’t ready to face, lifted your hand gently to his lips. Not in haste. Not in possession. But in a truth so absolute it could be carved into stone. He kissed your knuckles, reverent, unshaken. “Yes,” he murmured against your skin. “Even then.”

"I don’t think I want to study today." The words left your lips before you could second-guess them, barely more than a breath between you. Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with his usual quiet patience, his golden gaze steady, measuring. If he was surprised by your admission, he did not show it. Instead, he simply tilted his head, his grip on your hand unwavering. "Is that so?" You swallowed, nodding. "Just for today. Just… pretend. A little while longer." 

His fingers, still loosely tangled with yours, flexed slightly a nearly imperceptible motion, one that sent a shiver down your spine. "And what would you have me pretend?"

You exhaled, tightening your hold on his hand, as if afraid that if you let go, this moment would slip through your fingers like water. "That we aren’t ourselves for a little while. That you aren’t the Sage of Truth, that I’m not just another passing scholar." Your voice softened, growing smaller. "That there’s nothing else waiting beyond today." A pause. Finally, he spoke. "Very well." 

And just like that, the weight of study, of the Spire of Knowledge, of all the unspoken things hanging between you faded. You led him through the winding corridors of the Academy, past the looming stacks of books and echoing lecture halls, past the paths you’d always walked with a purpose, a destination. But today, there was no purpose beyond this. No destination beyond him. The Academy Gardens stretched out before you, golden light filtering through the arching willows, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and damp earth.

The reflecting pool shimmered in the afternoon sun, koi-like spirits drifting lazily beneath the surface, undisturbed by the weight of time. You sank onto your favorite bench beneath the willow tree, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

He followed, his movements deliberate, his presence unshakable. For a while, there was only silence. The kind that wasn’t uncomfortable, wasn’t empty, but full brimming with the weight of everything left unsaid. You closed your eyes, tilting your head back against the rough bark of the willow. "If we were different people," you murmured, "where do you think we’d be right now?" 

A soft hum, thoughtful. "That depends. Who would we be?" 

"Anyone," you said, cracking an eye open to glance at him. "Not a Sage, not a scholar. Just… anyone." He was quiet for a long moment, gaze fixed on the rippling water before you. Then, so softly you almost missed it "Perhaps we would not be here at all." 

Your heart clenched. He did not say it in a way that implied loss, nor longing, nor regret. It was merely a truth, simple and undeniable. A truth that, like all others, he could not ignore. You exhaled, turning your gaze back to the sky, watching as the willow’s golden leaves swayed in the breeze. "Then I’m glad we are who we are." 

His head tilted slightly, considering. "Even if it means you must one day leave?" You hesitated but only for a moment. Then, with a small smile, you turned to him, eyes shining with something steadfast. "Yes."

 For the first time since you had met him, he looked away first. The quiet stretched, deeper than before, until finally, his hand shifted beneath yours, his fingers curling around yours with a gentleness that felt almost reverent. "Then, for today," he murmured, voice steady but softer, "let us be only this." And so, you sat there together, the afternoon sun slipping lower, time stretching out like an unbroken thread between you. For today, there were no titles.

No responsibilities. No future waiting beyond the edges of the moment. For today, you were just you. And he was just Shadow Milk. You sighed dramatically, stretching your legs out before you, the warmth of the afternoon sun settling against your skin like a familiar weight.

 "Alright," you began, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, "serious question."

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, tilting his head ever so slightly. "I am listening." "If a koi spirit jumped out of the reflecting pool right now and challenged you to a duel, would you accept?" There was a pause brief, measured before he responded, as though he was actually considering it. "On what grounds does this koi spirit issue its challenge?" 

You grinned. "Honor. Obviously." His lips twitched, and you caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his golden gaze. "Then it would be rude to refuse." 

You gasped, placing a hand over your chest in mock offense. "You'd fight a koi spirit? Just like that?"

 "A challenge is a challenge," he said smoothly. "It would be dishonorable to leave it unanswered." 

You scoffed. "Unbelievable. I thought you were above fighting fish."

 He arched a brow. "This one appears to be capable of speech. That implies a certain level of intellect and self-awareness. It would not be just a fish." 

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Okay, fine. Next question: if you had to choose between being turned into a frog or an owl, which would you pick?" 

"A frog," he answered without hesitation. You blinked. "Really?" 

"Frogs are well-versed in patience," he mused. "They wait, they observe. And should they need to move, they do so with purpose."

 You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. "You really put thought into that." 

"I put thought into everything," he said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "And I thought I could get you with nonsense."

His expression softened slightly, something amused yet fond lurking in his gaze. "Would you prefer that I answer mindlessly?" 

You huffed, crossing your arms. "No, but I'd like to win for once." He exhaled a quiet laugh. "Then ask a question you know the answer to." 

You squinted at him. "Is that your way of admitting you outthink me every time?" 

"It is merely an observation," he said, as though he hadn't just absolutely confirmed it. You groaned again, flopping back against the bench. "You're impossible."

 "And yet," he murmured, looking at you with something you couldn't quite name, "you continue to try." Your breath hitched. For a moment, the playful back-and-forth stilled, the air between you shifting into something quieter, something heavier and warmer. You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus, grasping at the familiar rhythm between you before it slipped away."Alright, last one," you said, clearing your throat.

 "Do you think birds ever get jealous of fish?" Shadow Milk Cookie hummed.

 "Perhaps," he said thoughtfully. "They are both creatures of the sky, after all. It is merely that one has chosen the water as its sky, while the other soars above it." 

You blinked at him. "That was… strangely poetic." He glanced at you, tilting his head slightly. "Is that surprising?" 

You shook your head. "No, it's just… You make even nonsense sound like a revelation." Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled. "Then perhaps nonsense is simply another form of truth."

 You snorted. "Now you're just making things up."

 "However" he mused, watching you with that same, unreadable softness, "you continue to listen." You looked at him. The golden light of the setting sun caught the edges of his features, tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the sharp yet gentle intensity of his gaze. And for a moment, the playful rhythm between you faltered not in discomfort, not in hesitation, but in something else entirely. Something unspoken. Something undeniable. Your heart pounded against your ribs. You licked your lips, voice barely above a whisper.

 "Yeah," you murmured. "I do." for once he did not have a clever reply.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, hovering just over the space between you. You weren’t sure what possessed you, what made the thought turn into action, but before you could stop yourself, your hand lifted hesitant, reverent. His hair, now unshielded by his ever-present hat, flowed like a celestial river, strands shifting like currents beneath an unseen tide. It caught the fading light of the day, sparkling in its depths, cascading from a deep, endless blue to something lighter, softer like twilight melting into dawn. You had seen the stars before.

Had spent nights gazing up at them, wondering what it would be like to hold something so vast, so distant, so unreachable. But now, as the strands of his hair shifted like galaxies within reach, it felt as though the heavens had unfurled before you within your grasp if you dared. Your fingers finally brushed against the strands, barely grazing at first. They were impossibly soft, weightless in a way that felt unearthly. They moved with an almost liquid grace, drifting as though suspended in water, responding to your touch with a slow, shimmering ripple.

Shadow Milk Cookie remained perfectly still beneath your touch, his golden eyes half-lidded, unreadable. He did not pull away. Did not speak. He only watched as your fingers curled slightly, allowing more of the strands to slip between them, the sensation something akin to holding stardust in your palms. 

“Your hair…” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, entranced. “It’s like…” You trailed off, unable to put words to something so quietly breathtaking. A beat of silence. Then softly, almost imperceptibly he tilted his head just slightly into your touch. A silent permission. A quiet surrender. Your breath caught, but you didn’t pull away. For a moment, there was no weight of knowledge between you, just the quiet ripple of silver-blue strands between your fingers, the warmth of his gaze settled upon you like something endless.

And the realization that, perhaps, this moment was already written among the stars. Your fingers twitched in his hair, the shimmering strands slipping between them like a river of stardust. His breath hitched not loud, not sharp, but there, unmistakable, like the briefest hesitation in an otherwise steady rhythm. 

You looked at him then, and for once, he wasn’t composed. Shadow Milk Cookie, the Sage of Truth, the Fount of Knowledge, the one who always knew, always had the answer, always understood was caught off guard. There was color rising to his face, faint but undeniable, dusting his cheeks like the first blush of dawn. His eyes, wide and uncertain, flickered to yours, as if searching for something confirmation, permission, understanding. And for the first time, you had it before he did. The realization struck something deep within you, a warmth blooming in your chest, and maybe that was why you did what you did next. 

You leaned in. No hesitation, no second-guessing, no overthinking just a quiet, breathless pull toward something inevitable. Your lips met his, soft and fleeting, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for a whisper. But it was real. He stiffened beneath you, just for a moment, before something in him melted. His hair shimmered beneath your hands, shifting like the tide, and the warmth of him something you had never let yourself imagine settled against your skin. And then, as if the weight of what had just happened had finally hit him, Shadow Milk Cookie blushed. 

The blue deepened, blooming across his face like dawn spilling over the horizon. His lips parted ever so slightly, golden eyes searching yours with something almost lost as if he had spent centuries preparing for every answer but this one. Your heart pounded. “…I-I don’t know why I did that,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed. You saw it the slow, deliberate motion, as if he needed a moment to process what had just happened. Then, against all odds, his fingers lifted, barely grazing his lips, stunned.

 “You…” His voice trailed off, as if the words had left him. His brows furrowed, his breath uneven. “You kissed me.” Your face burned. “Yes,” you squeaked. A pause. Then “Why?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “I don’t know! It just-it felt right!” A stunned silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, before you dared to peek through your fingers only to see him looking away, face still stained with color, still lost in whatever thought had rendered him silent. You had never seen him like this before. Shadow Milk Cookie blushing. “…You are impossible,” he muttered at last, voice quieter than usual. 

You swallowed, hands lowering slowly. “And?” He hesitated. His fingers curled slightly at his sides. “…And you are infuriatingly endearing,” he admitted, voice just barely above a whisper. That did not help your heartbeat. You opened your mouth maybe to deflect, maybe to tease, maybe to kiss him again…but before you could, he did something you had never seen him do before. He turned his face away from you entirely, one hand lifting to press against his cheek as if he could will away the blush entirely.

Your breath stilled. You had broken him. Shadow Milk Cookie, the ever-composed, ever-patient Sage of Truth had lost his composure. And something about that made you grin, a slow, dazed thing, your heart soaring at the sight. “…You’re really blushing,” you murmured. His shoulders tensed slightly, but he did not refute it. And that was a victory all on its own.

The afternoon slipped through your fingers like grains of sand, the weight of time momentarily forgotten. The golden glow of the sky softened, shifting into the first whispers of twilight, and yet neither of you moved, not really. Conversation had ebbed and flowed, drifting from nonsensical musings to quiet contemplation, yet the lingering warmth between you remained. Neither of you acknowledged the inevitable how the day had unraveled so quickly, how the moment of parting was drawing closer with every breath. You exhaled, fingers still loosely curled around the fabric of his sleeve.

 “It’s late,” you murmured, though it wasn’t quite an announcement, more of a realization spoken aloud. Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, his golden gaze flickering to the horizon. “Yes.” You hesitated, glancing toward the academy. “My friends… they must be waiting for me.” 

You shifted slightly, as if testing the idea of leaving, of untangling yourself from this moment, but your fingers remained where they were lingering, reluctant. “Or… they will be waiting for me.” Shadow Milk Cookie did not immediately reply. He merely studied you, expression unreadable, before exhaling in quiet amusement. 

“So which is it, then?”

 You smiled, soft and knowing. “Both.” A faint chuckle left him, the sound gentle as the breeze. He made no move to stop you, nor did he urge you to go. He simply existed there with you, silent in his own acceptance. You swallowed, hesitating for one final moment before, with great reluctance, you began to pull away. His fingers twitched just barely.

A movement so minuscule you could have ignored it, could have dismissed it as nothing at all. But you didn’t. Because you felt it. Your breath caught, your eyes flickering to his hand the one that had not quite let go of the space between you. His grip was not tight, not demanding. But it lingered. Just as you had. And for a fleeting second, you thought maybe he doesn’t want this to end either. The thought sent something warm fluttering in your chest, something unspoken, something understood. 

Slowly, carefully, you gave his hand one last squeeze before finally letting go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmured. Shadow Milk Cookie inclined his head. “Tomorrow,” he echoed. And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the quiet warmth of his presence, stepping back into the world where time moved forward once more.

You barely felt the ground beneath your feet as you walked, the world around you shimmering with a lightness you couldn't quite name. It filled your chest like air rushing into open lungs after being held under too long, like warmth spreading through cold fingers in the first touch of sunlight. Your steps were lighter, quicker not from urgency, but from something more untethered, something free.

 It was as if you were drifting, carried by an unseen current, floating weightless in the afterglow of something you didn’t dare put into words just yet. By the time you reached the dining halls, the buzz of students and the clinking of dishes barely registered. Your mind was still back there, wrapped in the remnants of golden eyes and the way his fingers had hesitated, just for a moment, before letting go. The moment your friends spotted you, Chai Latte Cookie’s eyes narrowed. “Oh,” she said, setting down her cup with an exaggerated slowness. “Oh, you’re glowing.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie turned in his seat, brows lifting as he took you in. “Well, well. Would you look at that.”

 Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, barely looked up from his tea but there was the smallest twitch at the corner of his lips. “Fascinating,” he murmured, tilting his head just so. “Would you care to share with the class?” 

You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the way you must look practically floating, giddy with something obvious. Your face burned. “I-what? No. I’m just…I had a good day, that’s all.” 

Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, eyes alight with knowing. “A good day?” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

 You groaned, setting down your tray with a little too much force. “I swear-”

 “You swear you’ll tell us everything later?” Chai Latte Cookie interjected sweetly. You shot her a look, and she only beamed wider, elbow nudging yours. “No need to rush it, of course. But, you know, whenever you feel like talking-” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Preferably now.” 

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate all of you.” 

Earl Grey Cookie sipped his tea, thoroughly unbothered. “And yet, here you are, choosing to eat with us.” You groaned again, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. It remained, steadfast, a quiet certainty. Because even as your friends teased, even as you struggled to find the words, even as you laughed and deflected and tried to fight the inevitable You knew. And he knew. And for now, that was enough. Chai Latte Cookie had been watching you since the moment you arrived, eyes sharp with amusement and something more patient, something waiting. She had given you space, let you have your moment of denial, let you pretend you could dodge the inevitable.

But then you sat down, tray forgotten, fingers twitching against the edge of the table, and she pounced. “So.” She leaned in, resting her chin on her palm, voice deceptively casual. “Are you gonna tell us, or do I have to start guessing?”

 Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle, propping his elbows on the table. “Oh, this has to be good.” Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, merely raised a brow over the rim of his teacup. “Well?” 

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to tell them. They were your friends, your closest friends. They had been there for everything since the beginning, from your struggles in class to your quiet, messy unraveling over the Sage of Truth. They deserved to know. Saying it aloud made it real. Still, the words were already clawing at your throat, desperate to be spoken, to exist. 

You inhaled sharply. “Okay,” you muttered. “Okay. But you have to let me say everything before you interrupt.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “No promises.” You glared at him before turning back to Chai Latte Cookie, whose expression had shifted into something softer, something that told you she knew just how much this meant. You exhaled.

 And then, like a floodgate breaking, you spilled everything. How you had gone to his office. How you had started with nonsense, falling into the rhythm of things, trying desperately to hold onto normalcy. How you had asked really asked what the two of you were. How he had somewhat named it. How you had asked if it would still be so, even when you were gone. How you had told him you wanted to go with him, that if you could find a way to do your research at the Spire, then no one neither of you would have to give anything up. How you had reached for him, afraid to let go.

Chai Latte Cookie sucked in a breath, eyes wide. “You kissed him?” 

You slammed your hands onto the table. “I panicked!”

 Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie howled with laughter, head thrown back. “You panicked? Oh, that’s rich.”

 Earl Grey Cookie, though visibly more entertained than usual, merely exhaled through his nose. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “And his response?” 

Your face burned. “He” You swallowed, fingers curling against the fabric of your sleeve. “He let me.” 

Chai Latte Cookie pressed a hand to her chest, gasping dramatically. “Oh, my stars.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “And let me guess then you ran away.” 

You scowled. “I did not run away.”

 “Mm-hmm.” Chai Latte Cookie practically vibrated in her seat. “You kissed him.”

 “I know.” 

She let out a delighted squeal. “And he let you.” 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Why are you making it sound worse?”

“Because it’s delicious.”

 Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was still grinning like he had won some sort of grand prize. “So what now?” You hesitated. What now? What came after the truths had been spoken, after hands had lingered, after a kiss had stolen the last of your denials? What came after you had dared to hope? You swallowed. “I-I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I do know I want to be there. With him. At the Spire.” 

Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head slightly. “And what if you can’t?” You stiffened. Silence stretched between you, the weight of the question settling deep. You had thought about it. Of course, you had thought about it. “I have to try,” you said, voice quiet but sure. “Because if there’s a chance any chance then I don’t want to regret not taking it.”

 Chai Latte Cookie watched you for a long moment, her teasing gone, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she smiled. “Then we’ll help you.”

 Your breath hitched. “You?” She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie stretched his arms behind his head. “Guess we’ve got some planning to do.”

Earl Grey Cookie smirked, tilting his cup toward you in a silent toast. “I do love a challenge.” You stared at them, something tight in your chest easing, warmth unfurling in its place. You weren’t alone in this. You never had been. With them at your side, you wouldn’t have to walk this path alone. You exhaled, pressing your hands to the table as if grounding yourself. “Come with me. To the Spire.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nearly choked on his drink. “Wait, what?” Chai Latte Cookie blinked, her teacup hovering just before her lips. “You’re serious?”

“Of course, I’m serious,” you muttered, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I mean, think about it. We all have to pick a research lab for the fall semester, right? If we can apply to the Spire, then none of us would have to give anything up.” 

Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head, watching you carefully. “And this isn’t just about your academic prospects, is it?” You hesitated before shaking your head. “No. But that doesn’t make it any less of a good opportunity.” 

Chai Latte Cookie studied you, her gaze sharp, dissecting. Then, slowly, she grinned. “So,” she mused, “you’re not just trying to follow him. You’re making it so that we all move forward together.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smiled cheekily. “Smart.” 

Earl Grey Cookie tapped a finger against the rim of his cup. “Ambitious.” Chai Latte Cookie hummed, considering. “And… if we say yes? What then?” Your fingers curled slightly against the table. “Then we do everything we can to make it happen.” Silence stretched between you, anticipation thick in the air. You swallowed, heart pounding, watching their faces, waiting for something, anything.

Then, after a long, thoughtful pause, Earl Grey Cookie exhaled, setting his cup down with a quiet clink. “I suppose,” he murmured, “we’d best start preparing our applications.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snickered, nudging your arm. “Looks like you’re stuck with us.” 

Chai Latte Cookie beamed, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “You didn’t even have to ask,” she said softly. “Of course we’ll come with you.” Your breath hitched. And just like that, the weight on your chest, the fear of losing this, of losing them lightened, just a little. Of course Chai always had to ruin soft moments like this with her relentless teasing.

Chai Latte Cookie gasped, clutching your hand dramatically. “Oh, this is perfect. I knew something was up when you came floating into the dining hall looking like you’d just been kissed by the heavens”

 Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked, leaning back in his chair. “More like kissed by the Sage of Truth.”

 Your face burned. “I-shut up!” 

Chai Latte Cookie ignored your protests entirely, practically vibrating with excitement. “No, no, no, this is huge! You finally, finally got past all the ‘what are we’ nonsense and just did something about it?”

 Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, took a slow sip of his tea, watching with quiet amusement. “It seems they did,” he mused. You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know why I told you all anything.” 

“Because you love us,” Chai Latte Cookie said smugly, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. “And because you knew we’d hype you up over this.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned in, grinning. “So… how was it?” You groaned even louder. “Oh my god-” Chai Latte Cookie waggled her eyebrows. “Did he look absolutely ruined? Blushing, stunned, positively devastated by your boldness?” 

You peeked at her from between your fingers, warmth creeping up your neck. “…Maybe.” She gasped, shaking your shoulders. “I knew it!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie laughed, crossing his arms. “Hate to admit it, but she totally called it.” 

Chai Latte Cookie pressed a hand to her chest, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Of course I did. I know romance when I see it, and this? This is the slow burn of the century.”

Earl Grey Cookie sighed, setting down his tea. “I am beginning to regret indulging this conversation.”

 “Oh, hush,” Chai Latte Cookie shot back. “This is monumental.” She turned back to you, eyes twinkling. “So? So?! Are you together now? Official? Have you talked about it?”

 Your stomach flipped. You hesitated, rubbing at your wrist. “I mean… not exactly.” The entire table groaned. “Are you kidding me?” Chai Latte Cookie threw her hands up. “You kissed and you still haven’t-” 

“It was a lot, okay?!” You waved your hands defensively. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about having the ‘define the relationship’ talk right after!”

 Earl Grey Cookie exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I suppose that would have been too easy.”

 Chai Latte Cookie leaned in again, grinning. “Alright, fine. But do you plan on talking about it?” 

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I do.” She softened, nudging your arm. “Good.” Then her grin returned full force. “And until then, I’ll be gloating over the fact that I was right.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Oh, she’s never going to let this go.” Chai Latte Cookie winked. “Not in a million years.”

Dinner lingered longer than it usually did plates scraped clean, the flicker of golden lantern light above casting gentle shadows across the table, and your friends in rare form. Chai Latte Cookie hadn’t stopped grinning since you sat down, her excitement still pouring out in wild tangents and dreamy sighs. She was practically glowing. “Do you realize what this means?” she exclaimed, gesturing with both hands as if the stars themselves could be reshaped by your story. 

“He kissed you. The Sage of Truth or, sorry, the Fount of Knowledge kissed you. I could write poems about this!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie laughed so hard he nearly choked on his tea. “I give it a week before she starts putting sonnets under your dorm door.” 

Earl Grey Cookie, though more composed, had an unmistakable spark in his eye. His usual air of calm wasn’t gone, but tonight it had a certain crispness to it like the buzz of magic after a spell was cast. “You must admit,” he said, swirling the last of his tea in its cup, “it’s not every day we witness the immortal unshaken. He seems rather… enchanted.” 

You flushed, tucking your hands into your lap. “It’s not”

 “Oh, hush,” Chai Latte interrupted, leaning across the table. “You’re floating, and we’re living for it.”

Despite your embarrassment, a smile tugged at your lips. It was nice having them here, sharing in this strange, fragile new joy. The warmth in your chest refused to fade, and for once, you didn’t try to fight it. But still Before the table emptied and the chairs scraped back from the floor, before the last flicker of dessert vanished from its plate, you glanced up at them, voice quieter than before.

 “Hey,” you said, “before we all go…” The lightness dimmed slightly as your friends turned toward you, alert. You bit your lip. “Can you guys just… keep this private? Just for now?” 

Chai Latte Cookie’s brows furrowed. “Of course. Why?” You shifted in your seat, fingers curling slightly around your napkin. “Not that I don’t trust you. I do. But… it’s not just about me.” There was a pause brief but thoughtful. 

“You’re worried about him,” Earl Grey Cookie said. You nodded. “He’s respected. Revered, even. If word got out… people might talk. Twist things. I don’t want this to be something that hurts him.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s smirk softened into something gentler. “We’d never let that happen.” Chai Latte Cookie reached across the table again, this time taking your hand in both of hers. “You don’t have to explain. We get it. He’s… big. Important. But so are you. And if keeping this quiet keeps you both safe for now, we’ll guard it like it’s the last drop of honey-drizzled syrup on campus.” 

That got a small laugh out of you. Earl Grey Cookie gave a nod of solemn understanding. “No one will hear it from us.” 

“Not even a whisper,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie added, tapping his temple. “Scout’s honor.” 

You felt something loosen in your chest at their reassurances, your heart full to the brim with quiet gratitude. “Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.” Chai Latte Cookie squeezed your hand once more before letting go. “You’re welcome. But just so you know…” She leaned in again, conspiratorial. “I’m definitely still writing that poem.”

Chai latte waited behind the other two leaving without her, their goodnights still echoing faintly in your ears. You remained in your seat, half-lost in the warmth of the dining hall’s dim glow, fingers still absently tracing the rim of your cup. Chai Latte Cookie sat across from you, propping her chin in her palm as she watched you with that ever-present soft smile, the kind that looked effortless, practiced, but not fake. Just familiar. Just… her. 

You felt her gaze and blinked. “What?” She shrugged, her eyes drifting briefly to the window beside you where the twilight had begun to spill its blue haze across the courtyard. “Nothing,” she said lightly. “Just… you look really happy.”

Your lips twitched. “Do I?” 

“You do,” she said, leaning back in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. “It’s different. It’s quiet, but it’s there.” You lowered your gaze for a moment, trying not to smile too hard. “Yeah, well… it’s been a weird day.” 

“The best kind,” Chai Latte said easily. Her voice was even, casual, no different than a dozen other moments you’d shared over the years. There was no waver, no sigh nothing that would tip you off to the way her thumb brushed across her sleeve under the table, grounding herself. Nothing that would betray the softness in her eyes wasn’t just for the moment, but for you.

She pushed her chair back with a quiet scrape. “C’mon,” she said, reaching for your hand and giving it a familiar tug. “Let’s get you back to your dorm before you end up floating away. You laughed softly, letting her pull you to your feet. “I’m not floating.”

 “You are,” she teased, looping her arm through yours as you walked. “It’s cute. You’re not allowed to deny it.”

 “Fine,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “But only because you’re being unusually agreeable tonight.”

She grinned at that, her gaze fixed forward, watching the way the torchlight flickered along the hallway walls. You didn’t notice the way she looked at you then, just for a moment. Didn’t notice the quiet exhale that wasn’t quite a sigh. Didn’t notice the softness in her steps, or the way her grip lingered around your arm just a little longer than needed. You were happy. And that was enough for her

A/N super tired to give an update...will be checking my inbox tomorrow I'm super tired...<3 pls be patient with me thank you

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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Decided to make her in gacha, my queen<33

GN!READER X CANDY APPLE

Type:comfort, fluff(?)

Summary: After some time, you finally decied to explain to Candy Apple that you care for her, a lot.

Part 2 of my short story.

Some time had passed, since your argument, Candy Apple been avoiding you, but you can't just accept that, and he already moved his attention onto that new Cookie, so it shouldn't be any problem.

"Candy Apple" your vocie echo through the hallway "What do you want now, theif?" her vocie sounds bitter, not like before, it feels weird "Candy, please listen to me, this time" her eyes narrowed but she let out a long dramatic sigh "Fine...I listen but only for a moment" she answerd, looking at you "...Candy..I actually never wanted our's master attention" you started, hoping your explainion make any sense, Candy Apple stare at you "I alyways wanted your attention, you alyways...find a way to make my heart flutter, your laught, the way you lie..." you finished, sending a glance at her, she only share you gaze, before she let out that iconic laugh of her.

"Oh, haha! My sweet Reader Cookie♡, if I only knew before" she quickly ran over you, she knew she never hear this sweet words from anyone else than you "it seem, I give my attention to the wrong person!!" she chuckled "you are my beloved after all~♡" she hugged you tightly.

The next few days most of her attention move onto you from him, and you were glad, you two are together, forever, that's where the fate had lead you, she even made two puppets looking like you two, you have hers and she has yours.

Sorry if this is bad and for spelling mistakes, literally wirting dialogues is my weakness.

GN!READER X CANDY APPLE

Type:angst

summary: You've been given a lot of attention from Shadow Milk Cookie these days, and Candy Apple notices, not being happy with this.

Sorry if there are any mistakes

─ The meetings of you 4 were stranger than usually, Shadow Milk for whatever reason been giving you more attention the he give you in the past(which was almost none) such as headpats and talking to you more.

You start to worry, after all you been give something that Candy Apple wanted all this time, yet didn't get it, it may ruin the relationship you had bulid with her.

Of course, she did notice, she alyways notices when Shadow Milk's attention is more visble around another Cookie, like that stupid Pure vanila cook-- or now you? What did you do to get it? What? That she couldn't do?

After the meeting, you, of course, had an argument , you didn't really care about him nor his attention still you understand Candy Apple jealousy.

─"Ugh, you take all of his attention of me! Just like that stupid Cookie! I though I could trust you!"

"Candy Apple, I really don't think he ever had his attention on you...." you mutter quietly "maybe except few times"

"*Gasp* h-- how could you!? Of course, my beloved Shadow Milk Cookie♡♡ will have his attention on me! "

"Candy Apple..."

"No matter! You are a theif! I don't need you if all you do is steal!" Candy Apple storm off, far away form you

─ After that argument, you tried to talk about it to Candy Apple, wanting to explain to her but she just avoid you or told you she dosen't want to talk.

Your relationship now falling apart in front of your eyes, you didn't want that, even he notice, as before usually you two would be alyways together, no matter if it was just Candy Apple wanted to yap to you about him or it was just a meeting between you two, drawing and more, you even tried to teach her some of your own hobbies.

Still, you couldn't explain to her that you didn't care for him but for her, hoping that all the attention she spending on that cookie will turn onto you, you know, you are jealous.

Will she understand it one day?