Damon landed behind the house with barely a whisper of displaced air, the portal closing behind him like a sigh. Woewyn's light peeled off his shoulders, leaving him drenched in Earth's nighttime silence.
He stood still for a moment.
Breathing.
Preparing.
He hadn't realized how tense he'd been until his lungs started to tremble.
"Please don't be arguing…" he muttered under his breath.
"Please just… be okay."
His feet moved before he finished the sentence.
He crept along the side of the house, boots quiet on the gravel path. The air smelled like damp soil and old wood. The same scents he had grown up with but barely allowed himself to long for. Each step felt like peeling open an old scar he wasn't ready to look at.
When he reached the living-room window, he hesitated.
He almost didn't look.
Almost left things unknown — safer, easier, painless.
But he forced himself to lean in.
And what he saw almost knocked his breath out of his chest.
His father sat on the couch, bottle in hand. His mother sat only a foot away, legs tucked under her like she used to, their shoulders brushing lightly whenever she shifted.
Two half-finished beers sat on the table.
A bowl of spicy chips between them.
And they were laughing.
Laughing.
Not forced.
Not tense.
Not pretending.
Laughing the way adults forget how to laugh — like something had unlocked inside both of them at once.
The very air in the room looked warm.
Familiar.
Like the memory of home he once wanted so desperately he thought it might kill him.
Damon pressed a hand against the cold window frame.
His throat tightened.
"They're okay…" he whispered.
"They're actually… okay."
Relief washed over him so suddenly his knees almost buckled. His father leaned back, talking with animated hands — and Damon recognized the gesture. Recognized the rhythm of two voices blended in a way he hadn't heard in years.
The atmosphere he used to fall asleep to as a child.
The sound he mourned in silence.
He let himself watch for one long, full minute — not intruding, not wishing, just letting the relief sink into him like warmth after a cold day.
Then he stepped back from the window.
He couldn't interrupt.
Not this. Not tonight.
He exhaled, felt something unclench inside him… then turned away.
There was someone else who needed him now.
Someone he needed, too.
---
He crossed the distance to Natsuki's house faster than any human would believe, but not fast enough to calm the ache in his chest. When he reached her balcony again, he paused to smooth his shirt.
His heartbeat was embarrassingly loud.
He knocked lightly on the glass door.
Natsuki looked up instantly — eyes widening, startled, hopeful in a way that squeezed his ribs.
She stood, walked over, and slid the door open.
"Damon… you came back."
"You asked me to," he said with a small smile. "And… I wasn't done."
She stepped aside to let him in, and the soft lamplight brushed across her cheeks — warm, pink, still flustered from his earlier confession.
She sat on the edge of her bed.
He took the desk chair again, spinning it around before sitting so he could face her.
She sat staring down at him admiring his eyes. He sat staring up at her lost in her smile. The best curve he admired.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she looked down at her hands and whispered, "Can I… tell you something first?"
He nodded.
Her fingers tightened together.
"I thought… if I kept calling the shard and you didn't answer… it meant you were pulling away," she said, voice barely audible.
"I know it's stupid, but— I got scared. Not of you. Just… of losing you."
"Natsuki…" His chest clenched. "You're not losing me."
"I know. I know now." She exhaled shakily. "But those two weeks… on Earth it felt like everything was falling apart. You felt farther and farther away and I thought maybe—maybe it was easier for you to forget me."
Damon leaned forward instantly.
"I could never forget you."
Her breath hitched.
He rested his forearms on his knees.
"I also have...well I think it's kinda selfish." he said quietly. "It's— I don't think it's fair that I get to talk to you almost every day while you can only reach me once a week."
She blinked, surprised.
Her voice softened.
"But I like that," she admitted. "You… give me something to look forward to. Every day. Damon, you being gone doesn't make you feel far."
She put a hand over her heart.
"It just makes me count the days until I see you again."
He swallowed hard.
He had no defense against words like that.
They talked.
Longer than planned.
Much longer.
He told her about the light training with Solaren.
About Daichi actually transforming into a wolf.
About the twins — the scientists yet weaponsmiths — who were forging something "special enough for a prince stupid enough to fight 'gods'."
Natsuki snorted at that.
Then she told him about school.
About Pike — the weak, loud-mouthed bully who always made the mistake of believing height equaled strength.
"He keeps trying to mess with Tora," she said. "Honestly, he's like… a squirrel with anger issues."
"Do I need to come break his wrists?" Damon asked seriously.
She grabbed a pillow and hit him with it.
"No! Don't 'break' anyone! Damon!"
He grinned.
"Fine. Maybe just dislocate something small—"
"That's not better!"
Their laughter filled the room, the kind that makes your stomach hurt because it feels so good — almost reckless, almost healing.
But somewhere between those hours, Damon felt it.
A faint ripple of energy. Warm. Familiar. Protective.
His mother.
He inhaled softly.
"Natsuki," he said. "I… have to go."
Her smile faded.
"Already?"
"I promised her an hour."
Natsuki looked at his hands, then at his face, then down at her feet.
"Do you really have to go now?"
He stood slowly. "Apart from being my mother she's also the Queen I have to obey her."
"Yeah, I can see that."
He reached for her hand.
She took it immediately, fingers slotting between his.
She held on while standing up.
Harder than he expected.
"Wait," she said suddenly.
She stood and moved to her drawer, rummaging for a moment before returning with a small, woven object in her palms.
A simple bracelet.
Threaded in soft greens and pale blues — the colors she always said reminded her of the forest painting he once praised.
She reached for his wrist.
"This is for you," she whispered. "So you don't forget you have a reason to come back."
He blinked, stunned.
"Natsuki…"
"Let me put it on," she insisted.
He raised his hand.
Her fingers trembled as she tied the knot.
She looked at it like sealing a promise.
When she finished, she didn't pull away.
So he stepped closer.
Closer.
And gently pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Natsuki closed her eyes — not shy, not hesitant — but as if the moment itself was enough to make her entire world stutter.
He lingered just long enough to memorize the warmth.
"I'll see you soon," he murmured.
"You'd better."
He stepped back reluctantly.
Turned.
And before he left the balcony, he looked at her one last time.
There she stood — hands clasped, cheeks flushed, bracelet threads catching the light — and Damon felt something inside him settle with certainty.
He wasn't afraid of tomorrow.
Not anymore.
Because he had someone waiting on the other side of it.
He left with the bracelet warm against his skin.