His grip on my hand loosens, just slightly, but he doesn't let go completely.
"I'm not asking for much, Zyren."
His thumb brushes slowly across the back of my hand.
"Just one chance."
"Just one."
I stay silent.
The words don't come. They're stuck somewhere deep in my chest, tangled in a knot of confusion, guilt, and something I can't name. I don't know how to answer him.
Love him? Give him a chance?
How do you explain to someone that you've loved them in a way that was never meant to be returned?
He was my favorite character. In my real life, when I was just Neon—a broke, lonely student with nothing but cheap ramen, borrowed books, and dreams that never seemed to fit—I adored him from the pages. His softness. His innocence. The quiet suffering he endured in the original story. I always wished I could reach through the pages and pull him into safety, wrap him in the warmth he never seemed to have.
