Chapter Text
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
Christmas had always been the happiest time of the year. Or at least, that was how it used to be in the quiet suburban town of StoneVille Falls.
In every home, the windows breathed a golden warmth; fireplaces crackled while neighbors hung wreaths on their doors and children ran around wrapped in scarves far too big for them.
Families gathered around the tree, softly tuning their carols, sharing hot chocolate, and laughing at every silly thing.
In StoneVille Falls, nobody spent the holidays alone. Nobody. Or at least… almost nobody.
Because far from the glow of the lights and the smell of freshly baked cookies, the cold felt different on the bridge that connected to the east side of town.
There, where snow wasn’t trampled by families but instead pushed harshly by the wind, a man had crossed the metal railing.
He was standing on the edge, staring at the dark water running below.
He did nothing else.
He simply… thought about jumping.
His breath reeked of alcohol, his skin was bruised, his lip split, and his mind so clouded he could no longer tell where the physical pain ended and where the other kind began.
He had crashed his car minutes before. He couldn’t even remember if he had braked.
And in the left pocket of his pants, clenched as if it were the only thing he still had, he carried the wilted petals of a flower.
The flower his little daughter had shown him that day, smiling with her baby teeth.
The man staring at his own end…
was named Stanley Snyder.
How could a man with so many dreams and ambitions, with a loving family waiting for him at home… have ended up like this?
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
In a place hidden from human sight, beyond space itself, there existed a realm that had many names depending on the faith that named it: Paradise, Valhalla, Aaru, the Elysian Fields, Nirvana, Heaven. It was an eternal, serene place, where ancient souls worked tirelessly to help humans. There, wings were not a birthright, but an honor earned through effort.
That place was inhabited by first- and second-class angels: light as feathers, bright as stars, cheerful as the light of dawn. But among all of them, there was one who had gone far too long without being able to earn his wings.
“Ruri!”
Chrome came running, nearly slipping on a cloud, to where his beloved Ruri lay resting, watching the human world from above. She liked to listen closely to human prayers and look for ways to help. She turned her head, saw him arrive, and descended with her beautiful wings, wearing a smile that lit up the entire celestial landscape.
“Chrome! How have you been?”
“Very well, look,” he said proudly. “I’m reading this new book!”
Ruri looked in wonder at the tome he held in his hands.
“Oh… On the Origin of Species.”
Chrome flipped through the pages with shining eyes, delighted, but Ruri gently touched his arm.
“You have to come see this.”
He laughed, amused, with that mixture of shyness and charm that defined him.
“You know I can’t see the human world without my wings…”
“Not if I help you,” she said, winking.
She took him by the wrist and led him to the edge of a thicker cloud, leaning slightly forward as she helped him focus his gaze.
“See there?”
“Hmm… no, not yet… a little more.” Chrome squinted. The image shifted from a blurry stain to sharper outlines.
“How about now? Try to focus.”
“Yes… I think I… see it…”
“And?” Ruri asked, expectant.
“It’s a very pretty snowman”
“What?”
Ruri blinked. She looked down, followed the direction of Chrome’s gaze, and quickly shook her head.
“No! Not that! Turn your head more to the left!”
Chrome obeyed.
“Ah. That man who’s about to jump off the bridge?”
One… two…
“A MAN IS GOING TO JUMP OFF THE BRIDGE!?”
“I know… and on Christmas Eve,” Ruri replied sadly.
“How did you find him?”
“I heard a prayer…”
“Whose?”
“His daughter’s.”
Both watched the scene from above, worried about the staggering figure on the bridge’s edge.
“Why? Why does he want to jump? Why today, of all days?”
“Do you want us to investigate?” asked Ruri.
“How are we going to do that?”
“Chrome… when you’re a first-class angel, you can do many things.”
She clapped her hands and, as if the universe itself had blinked, everything went dark.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
First, absolute nothingness. Deep darkness, total silence.
And then… light.
A small house appeared before them: warm, welcoming, with Christmas lights turned off in the windows and snow piled up along the doorframe.
“Ruri… what? Where, and when are we?” Chrome asked, mouth agape.
“In the same town… about twenty years ago.”
“How did you do that?”
“That doesn’t matter. Look.”
The door swung open and a child ran outside. He wore a thick coat, a hand-knitted scarf, and a little hat that bounced with every step. He eagerly grabbed the snow shovel leaning against the entrance.
“And that boy?” Chrome asked.
“That’s the man from the bridge. When he was eleven.”
“What!?” Chrome squawked. “T-that kid is the man who…?”
“Stanley!” called a voice from the kitchen.
The boy stopped, turned, and saw his mother leaning out from the doorway.
“Don’t forget to take your sister!”
Stan sighed in resignation, but a sweet smile spread across his face as he looked up.
On the wooden porch stood Charlotte, his little sister. Holding on to the railing, she stared at him with huge, timid, sparkling eyes. Her coat was too big for her, and the scarf nearly covered her entire face, leaving only her eyes visible.
Stan reached a hand toward her.
“Come on,” he said, using the gentlest voice he kept reserved only for her.
Charlotte came down carefully, stepping on each stair with caution. When she reached his side, he noticed something.
“What happened?” he asked.
Charlotte lifted her hands. Her gloves had holes where the cold slipped in.
“I fell…” she admitted in the faintest whisper.
Stan sighed, resigned but tender all at once. He didn’t hesitate to take off his own gloves.
“B-but…” she stammered.
“Take them,” he said, putting them on her himself and making sure they were snug. “I don’t want you to be cold.”
He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
“We’re leaving now, Mom!” Stan shouted.
“Be careful! Stan, look after your sister,” their mother called from the kitchen, in that tone that said she was worried even if she didn’t come out to check.
They began to walk, the fresh snow crunching beneath their boots. Charlotte walked very close to him, carrying a quiet hope that she might make some friends that day.
The path to the lake always seemed longer than it actually was. They passed snow-covered trees, leaving footprints the icy wind began to erase. Charlotte remained silent, not for lack of desire to speak, but simply because she was that way: quiet, observing everything with her wide, curious eyes.
When they reached the frozen lake, they found a group of kids gathered around a small ramp made out of a mound of snow. There were shouts, laughter, and clouds of white breath escaping into the cold air.
“Who’s first?” someone asked.
“I’ll go!” Stan said without hesitation.
He set Charlotte beside a tree and placed himself on top of his shovel. With a strong push, he launched forward. The sound of ice sliding beneath him was almost magical. He glided an impressive distance, farther than any other kid. He stood up, raising his arms.
“I broke the record!”
The other children cheered, laughing and taking turns as well.
Charlotte, however, remained slightly farther back, standing on nearly untouched snow.
Those kinds of things… are what get you friends, she thought, feeling a tiny ache she didn’t know how to name.
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice when two older boys approached and surrounded her.
“What are you doing here, girl? These are games for boys!”
“She probably came to slide,” one mocked.
“What? Of course not! She’s a total chicken,” the other added with a cruel grin.
Charlotte pressed her lips together. She wanted to speak, defend herself… but her voice came out barely a thread.
“I… I…”
Stan saw them from afar. His expression changed immediately. He marched toward them, gripping his shovel firmly.
“Hey! Leave my sister alone!” he shouted.
“It’s not our fault she’s such a chicken,” one boy shrugged. “That’s why she has no friends…”
Stan shoved him.
“I said leave her alone! She’s not a chicken! She just doesn’t like doing stupid things like we do!”
The bigger boy shoved him back, and suddenly all the other children formed a circle around them.
Charlotte watched in anguish. She hated seeing Stan get into trouble because of her.
“I’m not a chicken!” she suddenly cried out.
Everyone went still.
“I-I’ll do it,” she said, grabbing the shovel with trembling hands.
“I don’t believe you,” they mocked again. “You’re lying.”
Stan approached her, speaking softly this time.
“Charlotte… are you sure?”
She swallowed, took a deep breath and nodded.
“I’ll do it,” she repeated, firmer.
She sat on the shovel, placed her hands as she had seen the others do, closed her eyes for a moment… and let herself go.
The speed shocked her. At first she felt fear, but then a laugh escaped her, unstoppable. It was fun.
She slid farther and farther… even surpassing Stan’s mark.
The children burst into cheers and applause. Stan ran to her with a huge smile.
“Charlotte, that was amazing!”
She smiled too, shy but proud.
But no one saw the tiny cracks forming beneath the ice, right where she stopped.
Charlotte pushed herself up to stand…
The ice gave way.
A sharp crack, a moment of silence.
and then the black water swallowing her.
“CHARLOTTE!” Stan screamed, heart knotted.
He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He jumped into the freezing water.
The children screamed and ran for an adult, but Stan was already fighting to move through the icy water, searching for his sister.
When he found her, he grabbed her by the torso.
“It’s okay, I’m here…” he gasped through trembling teeth.
He pushed her upward, trying to bring her closer to the broken edge.
“I’ll go lower and lift her” he ordered the nearby kids as best as he could. “Grab her!”
He went deeper, barely feeling his legs, and pushed her with all his strength upward. In that instant nothing else existed: only Charlotte, only saving her.
The children managed to take her by the hands and pulled her out of the water. They then did the same with Stan, who emerged shaking uncontrollably.
Charlotte sobbed as she clung to him, coughing and shaking with sobs.
“Stanley…” she murmured, voice broken.
The children who had gone for help finally returned, accompanied by the nearest doctor, his wife, and their young son, who carried two folded blankets in his arms.
“Move aside!” the doctor ordered as he approached.
“Dr. Wingfield, it’s them… Charlotte and her brother Stan,” one of the children explained, still panting.
“She fell, and he jumped to save her,” added another.
The doctor’s son stared at Stan with wide eyes, nearly in awe. How could someone so small be so brave?
The doctor and his wife knelt beside the siblings, quickly checking their pulse and breathing.
“We need to take them to the clinic right now,” the doctor said. “We have to get these wet clothes off immediately!”
His wife wrapped Charlotte in one of the blankets, while the boy handed the other to his father. The doctor wrapped Stan carefully and, without a second thought, lifted him into his arms.
As they walked, Stan, shivering, managed to meet the gaze of the doctor’s son walking behind them… and the boy smiled at him. A small, admiring, almost reverent smile.
That day, Stan caught a terrible cold and an ear infection in his left ear that left him permanently deaf on that side.
But he never regretted it.
To him, it was a small price to pay to see Charlotte alive.
And for her—and for a certain doctor’s son—that day, Stan became a hero for a lifetime.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
“Wow…” Chrome murmured, still shocked. “He put his life on the line to save his sister. Why would someone so determined end up like that?”
Ruri tilted her head slightly, thoughtful.
“We’ll have to investigate…”
She took a few steps forward, as if she could move through time simply by approaching it.
“When are we now?”
“A year later,” she replied. “Stanley’s first job.”
Chrome blinked, surprised.
“That young and already working? What a well-prepared kid…”
The scene came into focus: Stan pedaling on his bicycle through the streets of StoneVille Falls, the cold air reddening his cheeks. He parked outside Dr. Wingfield’s clinic. Since the lake accident, he had gone constantly for ear check-ups, exercises that never showed improvement. Even so, he attended with discipline.
And somehow, almost without realizing it, he ended up working there as an assistant: arranging bottles, helping in the pharmacy, and taking care of the shop while the doctor saw patients.
“Good morning, doctor!” Stan said as he entered, hanging his coat on a rack.
But the doctor wasn’t the same as before. For months, problems with his wife had made him cold, impatient, harsher.
“Stan! You’re late,” he growled without looking at him.
“Yes, sorry… I took my sister home.”
“Doesn’t matter. You have a lot to do.”
Stan stepped behind the counter, where, as always, Xeno was already sitting, flipping through a thick science book. The boy looked up the moment he saw him.
“Hi, Stan.”
Stan returned the smile, soft, the kind that’s barely visible.
“Hi, Xeno.”
The bell over the door chimed, and Iris peeked in, a girl from Stan’s class, and it was more than obvious she liked him.
“Hi, Stan! Are you working already?” she asked, blushing in excitement.
Xeno jumped from his seat at once and rushed toward the door.
“We’re not open yet!” he said, and shut the door right in her face, not without sticking his tongue out at her through the glass.
Iris’s eyes widened, offended, and she stomped away.
The doctor reacted immediately.
“Xeno, what’s with the door?”
“It was the wind, Dad,” Xeno replied quickly, turning toward him.
The doctor just huffed, too busy preparing medicine. Xeno went back to the counter with his books, pretending to concentrate. Soon after, he dropped his pencil behind the counter, like someone who drops something on purpose.
“Stan, could you get my pencil?” he asked with suspicious innocence.
But Stan was turned away, showing his left side, his deaf side. Xeno had to tap his shoulder.
“Stan.”
He turned.
“Yes?”
“My pencil. It fell under the counter… can you get it for me, please?”
Stan nodded and bent down to pick it up. Xeno used that instant, leaned toward his left ear, the one that heard nothing, and whispered with a soft, trembling voice he could no longer contain:
“Stanley Snyder… I will love you until the day I die.”
When Stan stood up, he simply handed him the pencil, unaware of anything.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks,” Xeno replied, with a small, fleeting smile, the kind he saved only for Stan.
Meanwhile, Stan organized bottles, read prescriptions, and sorted the counter. As he moved a folder, he found a folded sheet of paper. It was a letter… from Xeno’s mother. The shaky handwriting spoke of problems, exhaustion, an inevitable separation. She wrote that she would be leaving home “for a while,” though she herself didn’t know if she would ever return.
Stan left the letter where it was and looked at the doctor. Today he seemed even more irritable than usual.
Poor man… he must be feeling terrible, Stan thought, a knot forming in his stomach.
“Stan! Come pick up the medicine for the Blake kid! Hurry!” Dr. Wingfield ordered.
“Yes, sir!”
Stan moved to the back room, where the doctor was preparing pills. He grabbed the bottles he needed, though he couldn’t help noticing the doctor’s condition. His hands trembled. He was sweating. And he had already made three mistakes mixing pills.
Stan hesitated.
Were those medicines really correct?
“Doctor… do you want me to check the—?”
“No! Just do what I told you!” the doctor snapped.
“But sir…”
“Don’t answer back!”
The tone was final. Stan carried the order back to the counter, but his heart raced with unease.
These pills aren’t right… something’s wrong.
When the doctor went to the storage room for a larger container, Stan quietly returned. He opened one of the pills and smelled it.
That wasn’t the scent of allergy medicine.
He checked the shelves quickly and found an improperly closed bottle. He grabbed it… and froze.
Rat poison.
Stan threw the entire defective batch into the trash and was about to remake the pills when a strong hand grabbed his arm.
“You damned brat! What do you think you’re doing?” the doctor roared, furious.
“B-but sir…”
“Do you know how much that medicine costs!? Each pill is worth a fortune and you just threw away an entire bottle! Do you have money to pay for this? Do you know what you’ve done?”
Xeno, who had heard the shouting, stopped a few steps away, paralyzed, fear painted on his face. He was terrified his father might hurt Stan.
“Sir, I didn’t mean—” Stan tried to explain, voice breaking.
The doctor raised his hand. Stan shut his eyes, covering his face, on the verge of tears.
But a small figure suddenly stepped between them.
“Leave him alone, Dad! Don’t hurt him!” Xeno cried, trembling.
The doctor froze, surprised. He released Stan, and the boy collapsed to the floor.
“Why did you do that?” the man asked, confused.
Stan breathed shakily and showed him the open bottle.
“It’s just… you made a mistake… the pills…”
“I did NOT make a mistake!” the doctor barked, still agitated.
“It’s poison!” Stan cried desperately.
Everyone went still. Xeno rushed forward, grabbed a pill, smelled it… and his expression confirmed it.
“Rat poison…” he whispered.
The doctor snatched the bottle, examined it carefully… and his face lost all color. It was true. He had been one second away from giving poison to a sick child.
He looked at Stan: the boy’s arm was red, his eyes brimming with tears.
“I didn’t want him to get that… or you’d get in trouble… I’m sorry…” Stan stammered.
The doctor knelt before him and hugged him tightly.
“Stan… forgive me. I… I…” but his voice broke.
He looked at Xeno. He still hadn’t found the strength to tell him about his mother.
Stan, still shaken, patted the doctor’s back awkwardly.
“I know… don’t worry… I won’t tell anyone…”
“I’m sorry, Stan. I’m so very sorry,” the doctor repeated, his voice heavy with guilt, hugging the child again.
Xeno let out a long sigh, deeply relieved. At last… everything seemed to calm down.
“Did he ever tell anyone?” Chrome asked, unable to look away from the scene.
“No,” Ruri answered softly. “Never in his life.”
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
“And now? What moment are we in?”
“We fast-forward nine years. Stan is twenty-one now.”
“Wow, this is like a movie!”
The Snyder household was overflowing with energy. His mother had cooked dinner, and his father was looking over documents from the family loan business. Stan paced back and forth, visibly agitated.
“All I’m saying is that high school boys are idiots!” he complained. “I can’t just let Charlotte go to her graduation with some stranger!”
“Leave her alone, Stanley,” his mother said, entering with a tray. “It’s good that you want to protect her, but she can take care of herself.”
His father looked up for only a second.
“You must let her live her life, son.”
Stan dropped into a chair and sighed.
“It’s just… I really want her to have more opportunities, for nothing to hold her back. You worked hard to pay her tuition.”
“We know, sweetheart,” his mother replied, “but you can’t control her life. She’ll make mistakes, she’ll do things right… that’s part of growing up.”
She served his plate and caressed his cheek with a gentle smile.
“Cheer up, okay?”
Stan smiled too, though tiredly.
“It’s just that… once she graduates and she’s settled, then it’s my turn: my trip!”
His parents laughed.
“You’re still planning that trip, huh?”
“Yes! Look, I even have my suitcase already.”
He pulled out a new, shiny suitcase with his name engraved on it.
“Wow, son, did you buy it?”
“No, Dr. Wingfield gave it to me.”
“What a good man,” his mother commented. “He cares a lot about you. Him and his son, right? We haven’t seen Xeno in years.”
“Yeah…” Stan murmured. “He went to university. I don’t know if he’s been back.”
He opened his coat and pulled out several folded brochures.
“First I’ll go to the Fiji Islands. Then to the Coral Sea, near Australia. And after that… Italy, Egypt, Greece… I want to see the whole world!”
His parents looked through the brochures in awe.
“You have big plans, huh?”
“Once Charlotte graduates,” Stan said with that characteristic conviction of his, “I’m going to travel the world.”
His father smiled proudly.
“It’s good to have dreams, son.”
“Yeah… I just can’t see myself stuck in an office all day,” said Stan, and immediately looked at his father, feeling guilty. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I know your job matters.”
“Don’t worry,” his father replied calmly. “I know why you want to travel.”
Stan sighed and looked down, as though each word weighed heavier than the last.
“If it weren’t for my hearing loss… I could join the army like I always wanted. Like you, Dad.”
His father smiled sadly, with that mix of pride and nostalgia.
“I know, son. Though those days are long gone. I’m not that colonel anymore… just an old loan officer,” he said with a soft, resigned laugh.
Then he placed a firm hand on his shoulder, warm, heavy, an anchor in the chaos.
“But at least on your trips, you’ll always fly through the skies,” he continued. “Just like you wanted. Even if you’re not the one flying the plane.”
Stan smiled faintly.
“Don’t let anything stop you, son.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
They were about to continue eating when the doorbell rang. Stan frowned and stood up immediately.
“Stan, can you get the door, please?” Charlotte yelled from upstairs.
Stan muttered as he walked to the hall:
“Let’s see what idiot showed up this time…”
He opened the door. And unfortunately, there was someone stupid enough to ask his sister out.
“Hey Stanley! Is Charlotte ready?” Ryusui asked cheerfully, holding a huge bouquet of flowers.
Stan froze.
“W-what… what are you doing here?”
Ryusui walked inside as if he were a regular visitor.
“Good evening, ma’am! How are you?” he greeted Stan’s mother.
“Very well, thank you. She’s almost ready,” she replied, kind as always.
“Thank you very much.”
Ryusui sat down and began chatting casually with Stan’s father, completely oblivious to the murderous glare Stan was giving him from across the room.
“Wow,” Chrome commented, amused, “if looks could kill, that kid would be on the floor already.”
That was when Charlotte came down the stairs wearing a beautiful blue dress that matched her eyes, making her look radiant.
“Aww, my baby,” her mother said sweetly, “you look gorgeous. Right, Marshal?”
Her father softened instantly and nodded.
“Yes, my girl, you look beautiful.”
Charlotte blushed shyly.
“Thank you…”
Ryusui jumped to his feet and offered her his hand.
“Wow, Charlotte… you look stunning,” he said with a charming smile.
Stan looked at him as if trying to calculate the best place to bury him in the backyard.
“Stan,” his mother said, pointing at his sister, “aren’t you going to say anything to your little sister?”
Stan tore his eyes away from Ryusui and turned to Charlotte.
“You really do look very pretty today,” he admitted, sincere.
She smiled and took Ryusui’s arm.
“Okay, we’ll be going now. Did you bring your car?”
“Sure, we can leave now.”
“I’m going with you!” Stan blurted out, grabbing his coat and almost running out the door.
“Stan!” his father called.
“Yes, Dad?”
“If that boy does anything to your sister… and you punch him…”
Stan stopped, hopeful.
“…save me a hit.”
Stan’s mother rolled her eyes. His father smiled. And Stan burst out laughing.
“You got it, Dad!”
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
Stan had no trouble getting into the graduation venue: the school pool, covered by a platform that they had turned into a dance floor.
He walked behind Charlotte and Ryusui. Charlotte immediately found her friends and greeted them with excitement. But sooner or later, all of them ended up looking behind her… at Stan, who stayed close to them like a protective shadow.
“Is that your brother?” one of the girls whispered.
Charlotte let out a nervous giggle.
“Yeah… he didn’t want to let me come alone.”
The girls gave him an awkward wave. Stan crossed his arms, serious.
“It’s just… he takes really good care of me,” Charlotte added, trying to soften the mood.
They all glanced at him quickly… then immediately looked away, tense. Stan took one step closer to them, startling everyone.
“Yeah, I’m a killjoy. And what about it?”
One girl scoffed at him.
“Well, you’re not the only one here…”
In the distance, someone was separating two dancers with an authoritative voice:
“Hey! Watch those hands!”
That voice.
Stan turned instinctively.
“The only drink allowed here is punch!” the boy continued scolding. “You?! How did you sneak that in? We have security checking bags!”
Stan would recognize him anywhere.
Among the crowd, standing beneath lights that seemed to spotlight him on purpose, Stan saw Xeno. Taller now. More mature. Sharper features. Suit perfectly tailored. And that same rigid attitude as always.
He was… charming.
“Xeno? He’s back?” Stan murmured.
“Yeah, a few months ago,” one of the girls replied. “He’s been working here at the school.”
Stan began pushing through the crowd, eyes fixed on him. Xeno was busy scolding a group of girls who had smuggled liquor into the graduation.
“Do you know what this means? I’m going to have to report you and—!”
But when he turned around, he froze. Their eyes met.
Stan.
The brave boy.
The boy Xeno had loved in silence his whole life.
Xeno dropped the bottle he had been holding; it rolled across the floor until it hit the stairs and shattered.
“Hey! That bottle was really expensive!” one of the girls protested.
But Xeno didn’t hear her.
He only saw him.
“Stan…” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe he was really there.
The band began to play again, a faster, happier song. The lights moved across the dance floor, but the two of them remained motionless.
“Hey, Xeno…” said Stan, trying to sound casual, yet his voice trembled too.
“St-Stan… h-hi… you… how… how are you? I mean… what have you been doing? I mean…” Xeno let out a nervous laugh. “You know… like, things you’ve done…”
Stan couldn’t help smiling. Xeno was adorable when he got nervous.
“I’m good, not doing much… I’m helping my dad with the business until Charlotte graduates,” Stan explained.
“Oh, I see. Th-that’s very good. And after that, are you still going to… you know, the trip?” Xeno asked, trying not to let his voice shake.
Stan smiled, a warm, soft smile that melted Xeno completely.
He still remembered his famous trip.
“You remember…”
“O-of course! I mean, it’s not like I’m obsessed, but… your trip, yeah, I remember. Actually, the suitcase… I told Dad to give it to you. Well, he asked what to get you,” Xeno confessed, lowering his gaze, embarrassed.
Stan laughed softly and stepped closer.
“How have you been? How’s university?”
“Me? Good. I came back a few months ago. I’m… a teaching assistant. Well, substitute sometimes, if he gets sick… though he doesn’t get sick that much. Not that that’s a bad thing!” Xeno rambled.
Stan laughed, amused by how cute he sounded.
“So that’s why you’re a chaperone tonight?” he asked.
“Yes. Well… yes. I mean… tonight, yes. Working here… I don’t know if it’ll be temporary or not. I mean… I’m trying things out,” Xeno said, rubbing his hands without realizing.
They both looked at the dance floor.
“They’re having fun, aren’t they?” Stan commented.
“Yeah… everyone seems to enjoy dancing,” Xeno agreed.
Stan stepped forward again. And again.
Close enough that Xeno could feel the warmth of his chest.
“Can chaperones dance?” Stan asked in a low, almost playful tone.
Xeno went completely rigid, like the air had vanished.
“Well, I… I mean… yes. I mean… yes!” he squeaked.
Stan didn’t hesitate another second.
He grabbed Xeno’s hand, pulled him close, and before Xeno could even process what was happening, they were already on the dance floor.
They felt the world vanish around them.
There was only the two of them: Stan and Xeno.
They danced without caring about anything.
They danced…
And they were terrible.
They spun awkwardly. Bumped into other dancers.
Laughed because nothing went right.
But they kept dancing.
Stan and Xeno.
Together for the first time.
“I don’t know how to dance!” Xeno confessed between nervous laughs.
“Me neither!” Stan replied, laughing loudly.
Meanwhile, the girls whose bottle had shattered glared at them from a corner, hiding under the stage supports.
“Thanks to that nerd, we have no fun!” one complained.
“And we lost the money we spent…” added the second, arms crossed.
The third girl looked around, noticed something, and approached a metallic panel of buttons.
“Look at this!” she whispered excitedly.
“Now what do you want?” the first one scoffed.
“It’s the button to open the pool cover. And look where they are!”
Stan and Xeno danced dangerously close to the middle, exactly where the cover opened.
Totally unaware.
The three girls exchanged a glance and without thinking too much, pressed the button.
The platform began to slide open with a mechanical rumble.
Students quickly split into two groups, moving away.
Everyone noticed what was happening… except Stan and Xeno, who kept dancing like two happy idiots.
“Everyone’s looking at us!” Xeno exclaimed, nervous.
“We must be doing amazing then!” Stan replied with a huge grin.
In reality, everyone was watching how dangerously close they were to the edge.
One step… and another…
No one tried to warn them. Quite the opposite, everyone seemed entertained wondering whether they’d fall or not.
Stan grabbed Xeno by the waist, lifted him to spin him around… got dizzy… and—
SPLASH!
Both fell straight into the water, soaking themselves completely.
But instead of getting angry, they burst into laughter.
Stan pushed Xeno playfully to spin him, and they kept dancing in the pool, stumbling around in the water.
The students, thrilled by the scene, began to scream and cheer; some even jumped into the water themselves.
In a desperate attempt to stop them, several teachers jumped in after them, only managing to get soaked too.
Meanwhile, Stan and Xeno just kept dancing in the water, laughing, not caring about anything else.
From afar, Chrome and Ruri watched with amused smiles… until those smiles faded simultaneously.
“Do you think that boy knows… what Stan wants to do on the bridge?” Chrome asked quietly.
Ruri swallowed hard.
“I hope not…”
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
Stan and Xeno walked along the sidewalk, still wrapped in that euphoria left only by an unforgettable night. They were completely soaked. The elegant clothes they had worn earlier were stuffed in a bag Stan carried without much concern.
Xeno was wearing a huge bathrobe that was ridiculously too big for him, while Stan wore the football uniform of a student named “Jones.”
They moved with exaggerated steps, almost dancing, not caring about the hour or the curious looks from the neighbors. Stan had even forgotten he was originally there to watch over Charlotte.
Both of them, completely out of place yet happy, sang at the top of their lungs:
“We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know wheeeeen. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day ♪”
They sang terribly, but walked as if the street lit by streetlamps was their private stage.
Xeno looked at him with a mocking smile.
“My good sir, where did these strange garments come from?”
“Believe it or not, I had to fight for them,” Stan replied with dramatic tone. “Everyone was looting clothes from lost and found.”
Xeno burst out laughing.
“We look pretty foolish, don’t we?”
“Well, I look like a model football star,” Stan said with fake pride. “But you… you look very good.”
Xeno looked away, shy.
“Then I might dare say that you look… radiant like this.”
Xeno smiled softly at him.
“And why don’t you dare?”
“I don’t know,” Stan murmured, shrugging. “Maybe I will…”
They kept walking.
“Can I say I like how you look in the bathrobe?” Stan said, amused.
Xeno laughed, but then Stan, without thinking, tugged on the belt tied around the robe.
“Oh, whoops, my bad!”
Xeno exaggerated a frown.
“Enough! Give me the belt.”
Stan laughed and, putting on a ridiculous act, knelt in front of him and offered the belt.
“Oh, my lord, I beg thee to forgive me.”
Xeno laughed louder, extending a hand.
“Kiss my hand!”
“As you command, my lord.”
Stan took it and kissed it reverently… but as Xeno held his hand and pulled to help him stand, he ended up too close. Way too close.
“Xeno…”
Overwhelmed by nerves, Xeno quickly spun on his heels, pretending to continue singing.
“We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know wheeeeen… ♪”
Stan only laughed, resigned. Then he looked forward and noticed which house they had ended up in front of. He crouched down, picked up a stone from the ground, and lifted it as if it were a relic.
“Look,” he said. “The old Stonehollow house. I’m gonna throw a rock.”
Xeno chuckled and stepped closer.
“And why bother with property damage?”
“When I was a kid, I heard that if you throw a rock and manage to break a window, you can make a wish and it’ll come true.”
Xeno let out an immediate laugh.
“I’ve never heard that nonsense.”
“Hey, one can dream, right?” Stan tossed the stone upward and caught it skillfully.
Xeno looked at the house’s façade, thoughtful.
“The property is huge. It has a yard, and the structure is still solid. For it to be abandoned is such a waste.”
Stan watched him with a soft smile.
“Maybe…” Xeno murmured, “I could fix it up and live here someday.”
“You’d live here?”
“Well, I don’t want to stay at my parents’ house my whole life.”
Stan laughed.
“Well, the only way I’d live here is as a ghost.”
Stan lined himself up properly, aimed, and with flawless aim threw the stone. The glass of the left window shattered, echoing through the quiet neighborhood. A neighbor on his porch lifted his head, curious.
“What did you wish for?” Xeno asked.
Then he realized he was on his left, so he moved to the other side.
“Well… what did you wish for, Stan?”
Stan lowered his gaze and gave the slightest smile.
“To leave this town as soon as possible. Finish saving up money… and see the world.”
Xeno smiled with genuine warmth.
“Yes… Italy, Greece, Fiji Island…”
“And Brazil! Don’t forget.”
“And after all that… what comes next?”
Stan took a deep breath.
“I want to go to university. Get a real job. Change the world even just a little. I don’t want to stay here being a nobody.”
Xeno swallowed hard and looked at him.
“And you? Do you have any dreams?”
“I… want to study science. Get a doctorate. Become a researcher.”
“And why don’t you do it?”
“I don’t have the money. That’s why I work at the school. The pay isn’t great, but… it’s something.”
Stan smiled.
“Even so…”
Xeno lowered his gaze.
“I’m afraid of failing.”
Stan stared in disbelief.
“You? Impossible. You’re a genius.”
“Maybe, but even a genius needs charisma, good communication… what’s the point of researching if no one would take me seriously?”
Stan placed a firm, warm hand on his shoulder.
“You won’t know unless you try.”
Xeno took a breath, grabbed his own stone, measured the distance and threw. Another window exploded. The neighbor rose slightly in his chair, clearly annoyed… or intrigued.
“Nice aim,” Stan said, amused. “Did you wish for money for your doctorate?”
Xeno shook his head.
“No. That wasn’t it.”
“So what did you wish for?”
Xeno glanced sideways at him, wearing a half–smile that said everything and nothing. Then he turned back toward the street, returning to the song as an escape.
“We'll meet again… don’t know where… don’t know wheeeeen… ♪”
Stan followed between laughs, still staring at him.
“Come on, Xeno! Tell me!”
“No. If I say it, it might not come true.”
“And do you want it to come true?”
Xeno looked at him for a brief moment, serious, then looked away.
“Yes…”
“Come on, tell me what you wish for,” Stan insisted. “The moon?”
Both of them lifted their eyes to the bright full moon shining above them like a giant lantern hanging in the sky.
“The moon?” Xeno asked in an almost whisper.
“Yes,” Stan replied naturally. “You’ve always liked space, haven’t you?”
“Yes… I do. And the moon too,” he admitted, with a sweet awkwardness that gave him away.
Stan brushed his hair back and, with that confidence he only seemed to have around Xeno, said:
“If you want it, I’ll give it to you. Just give me the word. I’ll throw a rope… and pull the moon right here for you. It’s yours.”
Xeno smiled, with that mix of tenderness and disbelief only Stan could provoke.
“Stan… could you really do that?”
“Yes, I can,” Stan answered without hesitation, as if he truly believed it.
Xeno lowered his gaze, and the smile that appeared was warm, intimate, almost vulnerable.
“Then… I accept.”
They remained staring at each other, motionless beneath the pale moonlight, as if the world around them had stopped. Stan stepped closer, confident, daring, with that brightness in his eyes that betrayed everything he felt.
“I’ll give you anything you ask for,” he murmured. “Just give the command, and I’ll do it.”
Xeno stared at him mesmerized, as if he couldn’t look away… as if, for a moment, the moon wasn’t the brightest thing in the sky.
Stan felt slightly embarrassed, his cheeks burning.
“Am I talking too much?”
“Yes!”
The answer didn’t come from Xeno.
Both turned at the same time. On the porch of the neighboring house, an older man in a cozy robe, worn–out slippers, and holding a steaming mug of coffee watched them with a deep frown.
“Why don’t you stop talking so much and kiss him already, boy?” he grumbled, as if offering a very necessary opinion.
Stan blinked, confused.
“What was that?” He leaned to his right, trying to hear better.
“That you kiss him instead of yapping!” the man repeated, impatient.
Stan was instantly offended.
“Well, what business is that of yours!”
The man clicked his tongue, with the energy of someone far too tired to deal with strangers’ romance.
“Bah, youngsters today…”
He turned around to go back inside.
“Hey, get back here!” Stan barked, furious, stepping forward.
Xeno reacted instantly and grabbed his arm.
“Stan, no! Wait!”
“I want him to come back and say it again!” Stan insisted indignantly.
Xeno, afraid it would turn into some absurd embarrassing spectacle at midnight, turned around and ran to drag Stan away from conflict. In his rush, he didn’t notice Stan stepped on the robe belt again.
This time, the entire garment fell to the ground with a humiliating floop.
When Stan turned to follow Xeno, he found only the robe lying flat on the pavement as if its owner had evaporated.
“Xeno?” he asked, stunned.
He picked up the robe and took a few steps, scanning the dark street.
Suddenly, a clumsy whistle sounded nearby.
“Over here, Stan!”
“Where are you?” Stan asked, frowning as he spun around, trying to locate the voice.
“Where did you go?”
“Here! In the lily bush!”
Stan approached, pushed aside some leaves, and finally saw, between white petals and twigs, Xeno’s desperate eyes staring up like a trapped cat.
“Uh… my robe,” Xeno whispered in the tiniest voice. “Could you hand it to me, please?”
Stan reached out to give it to him… but froze, as if the brightest idea in the world had just struck him.
“Wait a second…”
“Stan?” Xeno swallowed hard.
Stan tilted his head, intrigued.
“What if… I don’t give it to you?”
“WHAT!?” Xeno shrieked so sharply the flowers trembled.
Stan’s smile turned dangerous, in the most playful and absurd way possible.
“This is a very interesting situation,” he said, enjoying himself way too much.
“Stan! I’m getting poked by branches! This hurts!” Xeno whined, moving awkwardly inside the foliage.
Stan lifted the robe as if it were a newly discovered treasure.
“Hmmm… what should I do?”
Xeno stuck a hand out through the leaves, reaching desperately.
“Please… can you give me my lab coat?”
Stan raised an eyebrow, evaluating him.
“You don’t see something like this every day…”
“Give me my robe, please!” Xeno begged, all dignity gone.
“At least not in this town,” Stan joked, looking at the neighborhood.
“Give me my robe!” Xeno screamed again.
Stan put his fist under his chin, striking a ridiculously thoughtful pose.
“I need to reflect a bit.”
Xeno huffed so hard the flowers swayed.
“You should be ashamed! I’ll tell your mother!”
Stan looked at him, sincerely amused.
“You’re really going to climb out of that bush half–naked to tell her?”
Xeno fell silent for two seconds that felt eternal… then switched strategies without thinking.
“Then I’ll call the police!”
“With what phone?” Stan asked.
Xeno raised both arms, defeated.
“Just give me my robe!”
Stan smiled more gently, charmed by Xeno’s adorable anger.
“How about we make a deal?”
Xeno peeked half his face out from the flowers, wide–eyed, a mix of fear, embarrassment, and unavoidable curiosity.
“And what… do you suggest?”
Stan opened his mouth, grinning with playful malice.
“Well, maybe you could—”
But he didn’t get to finish.
A loud honk tore the moment apart completely. Both boys jumped. It was Ryusui’s car, stopped abruptly at the curb. Charlotte leaned out the window, pale.
“Stan! Get in, quickly! It’s Dad!”
Stan’s face changed instantly; all the fun vanished as if it had never been there.
“What happened?” he asked, voice trembling.
“He had a stroke,” Charlotte said, barely breathing. “We have to get to the hospital now!”
Stan felt the ground shift beneath him. His entire body tensed. Without thinking, he handed the robe to Xeno.
“Xeno, I have to go.” He swallowed. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
Xeno barely managed a nod.
Stan ran to the car, jumped in, and Ryusui sped off immediately. The tires screeched before disappearing down the street.
Xeno, still half–hidden, hurriedly put on the robe. He stepped out of the bush slowly, watching as the car’s taillights grew smaller and smaller, swallowed by the night.
Silence returned to the street, cold, abrupt, so different from the laughter of just minutes ago.
“Stan… I hope everything turns out alright…” Xeno thought, clutching the robe against his chest while the moon kept shining, oblivious to it all.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
It had been three months since Colonel Marshal Snyder’s passing. The funeral had been modest and deeply emotional; the entire Snyder family, friends, neighbors, and employees of the company had said goodbye under a shared, broken silence.
Stanley had decided to postpone his trip indefinitely. First, he had to sort out the disaster death had left behind: the loan business, the will, the legal matters, the house… and his family. His mother barely spoke; Charlotte cried every night.
Colonel Snyder had left without saying goodbye, and Stan, only twenty-one years old, had become the only man in the house.
Now he had to stand up.
“I’m going to take care of both of them, Dad. I won’t let you down,” he repeated to himself.
Even if his own dreams froze, even if his goals were crushed beneath the weight of responsibility, it didn’t matter. If it was for his father… he would do it a thousand times.
The meeting began.
In the living room, the main businessmen of StoneVille Falls were gathered; respectable men, silent, nervous. But among all of them, at the head of the table, was him:
Ibara.
The town’s shark.
Owner of the biggest bank, the press, hotels, and practically every profitable business. A magnate with a cold presence, dark suit, faintly crooked smile, and predator eyes. He seemed to enjoy other people’s pain like a vulture smelling fresh meat before landing.
He had waited for news of the Colonel’s death to make his move. He had watched the family bleed… and now he was ready to shut down the Snyder business with clean hands.
When Stan entered the room, everyone stood up. They shook his hand, offered condolences, gave him solemn pats on the back.
Ibara only met his eyes, smiling without showing his teeth.
The meeting began.
“You are Colonel Snyder’s eldest son, Stanley,” Ibara said, voice controlled, soulless.
“That’s right, sir.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured without emotion.
“Thank you.”
After that false respect came the blow.
“Well, now that you’re here, we can continue with the decision that has been made.”
Stan frowned.
“What decision?”
Bill, his father’s friend and assistant for twenty years, sighed and sat next to him.
“He’s talking about dissolving the business, Stan…”
Stan lost his breath.
“What?”
Ibara lit a cigar right there in the room, ignoring every rule, as if he had already won.
“Colonel Snyder was a good man…” he said with fake solemnity, blowing smoke in front of everyone, “but his business is weak. And this town isn’t built on dreams. Capital rules here.”
The others looked away; none of them dared to confront him.
“I propose buying everything: the building, the infrastructure,” Ibara continued, relaxed. “We’ll integrate it into my bank, merge it, and that way we free the Snyder family from this burden.”
Stan squeezed his pen so hard he felt it might snap in two.
“Ibara…” he said through clenched teeth.
The magnate smiled with cynicism, savoring the tension.
“A noble dream your father had,” he added, exhaling smoke, “but dreams don’t pay bills.”
Stan slammed both hands on the table.
“My father wasn’t a burden!”
The room jolted. Ibara only arched a brow, entertained by the outburst.
“My father helped every person here! He gave you loans, support, work, hope. You can’t just sell everything like it’s trash!”
His words lit the room on fire. Slowly, the others began to speak, to remember, to support him.
“We’re not going to let the Snyder business shut down.”
“Of course not!”
For the first time in years, collective will defeated fear.
“Very well,” Ibara smoked a little more, indifferent “Let’s begin the vote.”
The decision was unanimous:
Everyone voted against closing the business. Everyone voted to save the Colonel’s legacy.
But then came the condition:
“But we don’t want you or any of your partners running the business,” Bill declared firmly. “We want Stan to stay in charge.”
Stan’s eyes widened in disbelief. Ibara’s eyes narrowed, irritation slipping through.
“Marshal trusted his son,” said another shareholder. “He is the only one who can do it.”
Silence.
Then, Ibara spoke with his hands clasped.
“Do you accept the position, Stanley?”
Everyone stared at Stan.
His dream was outside that door: traveling the world, being free, escaping this town, building his life.
But his father was there too: sitting at his old desk, folding paper airplanes with him using leftover sheets from slow days at the office.
“Dad, when I grow up, I’ll be a pilot!”
“Of course you will, son.”
Stan swallowed hard.
He knew that if he said yes, his life would change.
He knew he would leave his dream behind.
But he also knew his father would have done the same for him.
“Yes,” he said, breathing deeply. “I accept.”
Applause erupted.
Bill hugged him; everyone congratulated him.
Stan smiled… or pretended to.
When the room was empty, Stan was the last to leave. He took out the brochure of all the countries he dreamed of visiting: Italy, Greece, Brazil…
He held it for a few trembling seconds.
Then he ripped it into pieces.
He threw the scraps into the trash bin beside the desk where his father had once run the Snyder business with love and faith.
Stan locked the office door behind him.
And the echo of the lock sounded like a final goodbye to his own freedom.
⋆꙳·❅*🎄*❆·꙳⋆
