The school orientation issue remained unresolved. Elias had indeed offered to sign the paperwork, but the school administration had been very clear over the phone: *parent or legal guardian, with proper documentation*. A friendly café owner checked none of those boxes, no matter how well-meaning he was.
Seven hung up the payphone receiver with a sigh that contained just about everything he thought of human bureaucracy.
— Well. Back to square one.
He stood motionless in the street for a moment, hands in his pockets, before an older memory floated to the surface—a place he hadn't revisited in a while. The little hole-in-the-wall where it had all started, in a way. Where Kael had dragged him one evening, an eternity ago that was actually only a few months.
The bell above the door chimed faintly as he walked in.
The familiar smell of soy sauce and hot broth immediately enveloped him, almost like an old sweater found at the back of a closet.
— Well, well.
A gruff, amused voice drifted from the kitchen.
The owner appeared from behind the counter, a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. A broad-shouldered man, his face weathered by years of steam and kitchen rushes, but with sharp, almost mischievous eyes.
— The smoker who leaves ridiculous tips and drags my son into fights. I was wondering if you'd ever come back.
Seven offered a half-smile.
— How is he doing, your son?
— He's got a split lip and a newfound tough-guy reputation with the regulars. So yeah. He's doing just fine.
The waiter in question happened to poke his head through the kitchen door, a tray in hand, and froze when he spotted Seven.
— Oh no. You.
— Me.
— The last time I saw you, I ended up with a black eye.
— Technically, you started the fight.
— You handed me the cigarette!
— I never forced you to smoke it.
The owner burst out laughing—a genuine, unrestrained laugh that shook his entire chest.
— I like this kid, he told his son. Plus, he's right about everything.
— Dad.
— What? The truth hurts, kiddo.
Seven let the silence settle for a moment before taking the plunge.
— I wasn't looking for a fight this time. I have a favor to ask.
The owner crossed his arms, his smile fading slightly, replaced by a more grounded attention.
— I'm listening.
— There's this thing at high school. A mandatory parent situation for the career orientation paperwork. I don't have any. Parents, I mean. Not in the administrative sense of the word.
He didn't add anything else—no explanation, no elaborate lie. Just the facts, laid out simply on the counter between them.
The owner observed him for a long moment, as if weighing something much deeper than the simple request. Then he slowly nodded.
— You've got family, kid. Even if it's not the kind you check off on a form.
He gestured toward the dining room with his chin—the worn-out tables, the loud regulars, his son wiping down the counter while pretending not to listen.
— But I can't sign a legal guardian paper for a kid who shows up once every three months to drive away my customers with his smoke, he added with a wink. There's gotta be someone who could do it, right? Someone who's been hanging around with you longer than I have?
Seven remained silent for a moment.
He knew exactly who he had in mind.
He found Kael on his way back, sitting alone on the steps of her apartment building, her headphones resting around her neck rather than over her ears—a sign, with her, that she didn't really want to be alone, without fully admitting it to herself.
— What are you doing out here?
She looked up, a bit surprised.
— Nothing. I wasn't waiting for anyone in particular.
— Liar.
A faint smile slipped out despite herself.
— What do you want, Seven?
He sat down next to her, getting straight to the point.
— There's this thing at high school. The orientation. Needs a parent or a guardian.
— So?
— You're the only person I've known long enough for it to make sense.
Kael froze slightly.
— Are you asking me to be your legal guardian?
— Technically, you aren't even eighteen yet. It probably won't work administratively.
— Then why are you asking me?
Seven looked for a moment at the city coming alive in the dusk, lights flicking on one by one behind the windows.
— Because you're the first person who ever dragged me somewhere without expecting anything in return. The first bowl of noodles. The first thing that felt like a normal life.
He gave a slight shrug, almost embarrassed by his own words.
— That matters to me. Even if it doesn't solve the paperwork problem.
Kael stayed quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on her hands.
— …You could've just said that sooner, you know. Instead of disappearing with Liah and Nils for weeks.
— I know.
— I thought you just... didn't need me anymore.
— That's not true.
He said it without hesitation, loud enough for her to look back up at him.
A different kind of silence settled between them this time—softer, almost healing.
Kael let out a small laugh, shaking her head.
— Wait, actually what you're asking me is completely stupid. I'm in the same grade as you. I'm not even eighteen, Seven. It'll never pass as a legal guardian, even on the shadiest piece of paper in the world.
— …Ah.
— "Ah." Is that all you have to say?
— I hadn't thought about that, he admitted, almost sheepish.
She sighed, but her smile lingered.
— I'll ask my mom. She can sign it. At least that'll fix the administrative problem.
— Alright.
A silence, then Seven spoke again, more serious this time.
— But to me, it's still you. Your mom can sign the paper, fine. But if we're talking about who actually counts in this kind of moment—it's you. You were my first friend. You're still my best friend.
Kael stayed quiet for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden honesty.
— …You really suck at saying things normally, you know that?
— I get that a lot.
— But if that doesn't work, the restaurant owner will probably find some questionable administrative workaround. He looks the part.
— That's not very reassuring.
— Nothing in my life ever really is.
She laughed, a real laugh this time, and for a moment, everything felt simple between them, just like before.
— SEVEN!
Nils's voice echoed from down the street, followed by his usual sprint, arms flailing in every direction.
— We're going to my place tonight, come on, my mom made this chicken thing that smells absolutely divine.
Seven stood up, casting one last glance at Kael.
— Are you coming too?
She hesitated for a fraction of a second—just enough for it to show.
— Nah, I'm good. I've got stuff to do.
— You sure?
— Yeah. Go ahead.
He looked at her a moment longer, as if trying to make sure everything was really fine, then finally nodded and followed Nils, who was already talking a mile a minute about his famous chicken.
Kael remained sitting on the steps, watching them walk away down the street, their silhouettes slowly shrinking under the streetlights flickering on.
She smiled—a genuine smile, without apparent bitterness.
Then, once they had disappeared around the corner, that smile slowly faded, replaced by something quieter, and sadder too.
She thought back to Liah's words from a few days earlier. *Seven is moving forward. And you're standing still.*
It wasn't that she held it against him. She was even genuinely happy to see him laugh like that, to see him running toward a warm home that wasn't his but welcomed him anyway, no questions asked.
It was just that, for the first time since she had known him, she felt like she was watching him live a life—from afar, from the steps of an apartment building, while he moved forward without her.
She put her headphones back on, turned up the volume, and went inside without looking back.
Somewhere high above Eryndor, a wind colder than the season called for swept slowly across the sky, and no one, that night, noticed.