Avia Pov
"—Avia."
A pause.
"Avia."
Another pause.
"Avia, if you don't wake up right now, I swear I'm pouring this on your face."
I jolted awake.
"Ah—!"
My chest rose and fell unevenly, heart pounding like it was trying to break out of my ribs. My vision blurred for a second before slowly coming back into focus.
"…What?"
"Finally."
The voice was dry. Unimpressed.
I blinked, and there she was.
Ciel.
Sitting right across from me, holding her iced coffee mid-air like it was a legitimate threat, one eyebrow raised as she studied me.
"…Why are you holding that like a weapon?" I croaked.
She tilted her head slightly. "Because I was about two seconds away from using it."
I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against my chest. "That's a bit extreme."
"You were being dramatic," she said simply. "I matched the energy."
"Wow. Supportive."
"I try."
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to steady my breathing. My heartbeat was still uneven, like it hadn't realized the nightmare was over.
Except—
It didn't feel over.
It never does.
"Same dream?" Ciel asked casually, like she was asking if I wanted sugar in my coffee.
I opened one eye and gave her a look. "Was it that obvious?"
"Extremely," she nodded. "You had lines."
I froze.
"…I had what?"
She grinned.
"Lines. Dialogue. A full script, honestly. There was a 'choose me' moment—very emotional, very on-brand for you."
"Ciel," I said slowly, "please tell me you're joking."
"I wish," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "You even paused for dramatic effect. I almost clapped."
I stared at her in horror.
"…You're lying."
"I'm not. And just so you know, the girls behind you were very invested."
"Stop."
"One of them looked like she was rooting for you."
"Stop."
"The other one? Definitely on your ex's side."
"CIEL."
She burst into laughter.
I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. "That's it. I'm transferring schools."
"Relax," she said between laughs. "They don't know you."
"That doesn't make it better!"
"It does. Temporary embarrassment builds character."
"This is humiliation."
"Same thing," she shrugged.
I let out a long sigh, turning my head slightly against the table.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then—
"…It was the same," I said quietly.
Ciel didn't interrupt this time.
Good.
"Same place," I continued, staring blankly at the surface in front of me. "Same words. Same… ending."
"Mm."
I swallowed.
"Two years, Ciel."
There it was.
The number that always made everything feel heavier.
"Two years," I repeated. "And it just… ended like that."
She leaned back in her chair, studying me carefully. "Define 'like that.'"
I lifted my head slightly. "He left."
"Mm."
"He chose someone else."
"Mm."
"And I didn't even get a real explanation."
Ciel raised an eyebrow. "He gave you one."
"That wasn't an explanation," I said immediately. "That was vague. That was—"
"Convenient?" she suggested.
"…Cowardly," I finished.
She hummed in agreement. "Fair."
I sat up properly this time, wrapping my hands around the cup in front of me. I didn't even remember her placing it there, but it was warm.
At least something was.
"We were fine," I said, more to myself than to her. "We were okay. We were… happy."
"Keyword: were," Ciel said.
I shot her a look. "Do you have to say it like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're underlining every word."
"I'm emphasizing," she corrected. "So it sinks in."
"It's already in my head," I muttered. "That's the problem."
She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "Then let me simplify it for you."
I sighed. "Go ahead."
"He didn't choose you."
Straight.
Blunt.
No hesitation.
My fingers tightened slightly around the cup.
"I know that," I said.
"Do you?" she asked, tilting her head. "Because you keep looking for a deeper meaning. Like there's some hidden explanation that'll make it hurt less."
I didn't answer.
Because—
She wasn't wrong.
"Sometimes," she continued, her tone softer but still firm, "there isn't one. Sometimes people just… choose differently."
"Differently," I echoed, a humorless smile forming on my lips. "That's a nice way to say 'not me.'"
"Exactly."
A quiet laugh escaped me, though there was no real amusement behind it. "You're harsh."
"I'm efficient."
"Same thing."
"No," she said. "Efficient just hurts faster."
I huffed out a small laugh despite myself.
There it was again.
That thing she does—
Turning something painful into something… manageable.
"…I still don't get it," I admitted. "If he was afraid of losing something… why wasn't I worth choosing?"
Ciel didn't answer immediately.
She took a slow sip of her drink, like she was actually thinking for once.
"Because whatever he was afraid of losing," she said finally, "mattered more to him than you did."
That—
That hurt.
I looked away, staring out the window beside us. Outside, students passed by, laughing, talking, holding hands like heartbreak wasn't something that existed.
Lucky them.
"…That sounds worse when you say it out loud," I muttered.
"It's supposed to," she replied simply.
Silence settled between us again.
But this time—
It wasn't suffocating.
Just heavy.
Bearable.
Then suddenly—
"Anyway."
I blinked. "Anyway?"
"Yes, anyway," she said firmly. "We are not spending Valentine's Day analyzing your failed love life."
"Wow."
"What?" she shrugged. "Branding matters."
"Branding?"
"You're not 'heartbroken girl,'" she said, pointing at me. "You're 'slightly dramatic but still pretty and functional.'"
I stared at her.
"…That's your rebrand for me?"
"Work in progress."
I let out a small laugh. "You're unbelievable."
"And yet," she smirked, "still your best friend."
"Debatable."
"Rude."
"But accurate."
She gasped softly. "After everything I've done for you?"
"Like exposing my sleep-talking to the public?"
"That was free entertainment."
"For you."
"For everyone," she corrected.
I groaned, covering my face. "Please tell me no one recorded it."
She paused.
Just long enough.
"…Ciel."
She burst out laughing. "Relax! No one recorded anything!"
"You hesitated."
"For dramatic effect."
"You're evil."
"Selective."
Despite myself, I laughed.
And for a moment—
It didn't feel like I had just relived something painful.
Ciel tapped her straw against her cup again, watching me like she was waiting for something.
"For the record," she added casually, "if you start crying again, I'm switching tables."
"Wow. Loyal."
"Very. Just… from a distance."
I rolled my eyes, but before I could reply—
"HELLO, LOSERS!"
Ciel didn't even flinch.
I did.
"…And there it is," she muttered, not bothering to turn around. "The daily headache has arrived."
I turned slightly in my seat just in time to see them.
Lykee walked in first—loud, energetic, and already talking like she owned the entire café. Behind her was Morii, calm as ever, scanning the place like she was mentally judging everyone but choosing peace.
And then—
Lael.
She didn't just walk in.
She arrived.
Confident, effortless, and carrying—
"…Are those flowers?" I asked, blinking.
"Correction," Ciel said flatly. "Those are flowers. Plural. Excessive."
Lael placed a bouquet—no, four bouquets—on the table like it was completely normal.
"It's called being admired," she said smoothly, taking a seat. "You should try it sometime."
"Pass," Ciel replied immediately.
"I wasn't talking to you."
"Good. I wasn't listening."
Lykee dropped into the seat beside Ciel with zero grace. "Why does it smell like drama here?"
"Because Avia was sleep-talking again," Ciel answered without hesitation.
"CIEL."
"What?" she shrugged. "It's public information now."
Lykee gasped, turning to me with wide eyes. "Again? What was it this time? Crying? Begging? Screaming his name?"
"I was not screaming his name!"
"She did say 'choose me,'" Ciel added.
Lykee slapped the table once. "NO WAY—"
Morii, who had just sat down, paused mid-movement. "…In public?"
I covered my face with both hands. "Can we not—"
"That's actually impressive," Lael cut in, crossing her legs. "I can't even confess properly while awake, and you're out here doing it unconsciously."
"Thank you, Lael," I said dryly. "Very comforting."
"You're welcome."
Ciel smirked. "At least she's consistent."
"I hate all of you."
"No, you don't," Lykee grinned. "You'd be boring without us."
"That's not even slightly wrong," Ciel added.
I dropped my hands from my face, glaring at all of them. "You guys are unbelievable."
"And yet," Lael said, casually fixing her hair, "we're your favorite people."
"…Debatable."
"Rude," Lykee gasped.
"Accurate," Ciel corrected.
Morii just shook her head slightly, though there was a small smile on her lips. "You're okay now?" she asked me, her tone noticeably softer than the others.
I paused for a second.
Then nodded. "…Yeah. I'm okay."
"Define okay," Ciel muttered.
"I'm not crying," I shot back.
"Bare minimum," she replied.
"Still counts."
Lykee leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "So… are we going to unpack this or pretend we're emotionally stable?"
"Pretend," Ciel answered immediately.
"Agreed," Lael nodded.
"Seconded," I said quickly.
Morii sighed. "Of course."
"Wow," Lykee said, looking offended. "No one wants the tea?"
"We've had the tea," Ciel said. "We're tired."
"Speak for yourself. I'm never tired of drama."
"You are the drama."
"Exactly."
Lael glanced down at her bouquets, adjusting them slightly. "Speaking of drama," she said, "can we talk about how I almost rejected someone in front of the entire hallway today?"
"Almost?" Ciel raised a brow.
"I got distracted," Lael admitted. "He was holding flowers. I respect the effort."
"You're holding more flowers than he gave," Lykee pointed out.
"Exactly. Competition is tough."
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "How many did you even get?"
Lael shrugged. "I stopped counting after five."
"Of course you did," Ciel muttered.
"Don't be jealous."
"I'm not."
"You sound jealous."
"I sound tired."
"Of being single?"
"Of you."
Lykee snorted. "Valid."
Morii glanced around the café. "We're getting too loud."
"We're always loud," Lykee said.
"Yes, but now people are staring."
"Let them," Lael said. "They need entertainment."
Ciel leaned back in her chair. "We should leave."
"Wow," Lykee blinked. "You? Suggesting movement?"
"I know," Ciel said. "Growth."
"Write it down," I added. "This is history."
"Very funny."
"Always."
Morii nodded slightly. "It's crowded anyway. We can go somewhere quieter."
"Park?" Lykee suggested immediately.
"Of course you'd pick somewhere with more couples," Ciel said.
"To balance your bitterness."
"I'm not bitter."
"You literally called them 'disgusting' earlier."
"That was an observation."
"That was jealousy."
"That was accuracy."
I laughed softly, standing up. "Let's just go before this turns into a debate."
"Too late," Ciel muttered, but she stood up anyway.
Lael carefully picked up her bouquets like they were part of her personality—which, honestly, they were.
Lykee stretched dramatically. "Ah, fresh air. And maybe free food if we see couples fighting."
"Why would there be free food?" I asked.
"They might throw things."
"That's not how that works."
"Let me dream."
Morii shook her head as we started walking out. "You're all exhausting."
"And yet," Ciel said, pushing the door open, "you stay."
Morii didn't answer.
But the small smile on her face said enough.
---
As we stepped outside, the noise of the café faded behind us, replaced by the soft hum of campus life.
For the first time since I woke up—
I didn't feel stuck in that moment anymore.
Not completely.
But enough to breathe.
And maybe—
Just maybe—
That was a start.
End of Part 1