The knock at the clubroom door snapped Soren out of his train of thought so hard his feet stopped mid-step.
He had told himself he was ready.
Told himself he could talk to everyone, that he wanted things to go back to normal, that this was just a reset and not some desperate attempt to stitch his life back together with threadbare hands.
The anxiety still remained anyway, stubborn and dull, clawing at the back of his mind like a blade that refused to cut cleanly.
His eyes fixed on the door.
No voices.
No footsteps.
Just… quiet.
Soren swallowed.
'Why aren't they coming in…?'
Everyone in the club had a key.
Nobody needed him to open it.
So why hadn't it opened?
His shoulders tightened, and for a few long seconds he simply stood there, waiting, half expecting the handle to turn at any moment, half terrified it wouldn't, because if nobody came in, it wasn't just a party failing, it was proof that things really had broken.
When nothing happened, he forced himself to move.
Slowly at first, then faster, like hesitation would give his brain time to talk him out of it.
His hand found the handle.
He pulled.
The door opened.
Hallway light spilled in.
And there, perfectly upright, hands behind her back like she had been drilled into the posture since birth, stood Louise.
Soren blinked.
Then blinked again, because his mind insisted it needed to confirm what his eyes were seeing.
"…Louise?"
She stared at him for a beat, expression smooth, then it shifted, only slightly, but enough that he recognised it as mild disbelief.
"Little Brother," she said, voice sweet and scolding in one breath, "why are you calling me that again?"
Soren cleared his throat, suddenly feeling ridiculous.
"Sorry, Sis"
Louise tilted her head, gaze flicking past him into the clubroom.
"…Why didn't the door open?"
Soren paused.
"Why didn't you use the key?"
One eyebrow rose.
"I did."
"…You did?"
She held up a small keyring between two fingers like evidence.
"It didn't work."
Soren froze.
"…What?"
Louise's brow furrowed.
"I turned it. It wouldn't open."
His gaze dropped to the key, then to the lock, then back to her, and his brain took an annoyingly long moment to catch up.
'Did I leave the key in?'
He hadn't meant to, didn't even remember locking it, but the anxiety had been sitting on him so tightly all day that he could easily have done it without thinking, some instinctive need to control the space, to keep it contained, to keep everything from slipping.
A cough forced its way out of him, awkward and pointless.
"…Oops."
Louise blinked once, then her lips puffed out in a mild pout.
"Sometimes you really are stupid."
"I know, I know," Soren replied with a small smile, because it was easier than arguing.
Her gaze softened instantly, the pout melting into something almost amused.
"Mm," she hummed, stepping forward like the issue was already done with. "So what's going on? Professor Roseblood suddenly showed up and told me to come here."
"Can't you tell?"
"...You could just explain."
"I'm throwing a party," Soren said.
Louise narrowed her eyes.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Is it someone's birthday?" she asked.
"No."
"Is there something special going on?" she tried again.
"...No."
"So you just decided to throw a party for no reason?"
Soren's jaw clicked shut.
"…No comment. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Hmmm… whatever could you mean?" she replied, voice dripping with innocent mockery.
"You're looking at me like I'm insane."
"No comment," Louise said again, deliberately imitating his earlier tone.
Then she giggled, an actual giggle, completely mismatched with the way she looked, tall and intimidating with a rapier at her waist and that noble grace baked into her bones, and she stepped past him into the clubroom.
The moment she entered, her eyes widened.
Streamers.
Hanging charms.
A cloth spread over the table.
Plates neatly laid out.
Snacks arranged with enough care that it looked intentional rather than thrown together.
And a suspiciously empty space on the lower shelves where drinks definitely should have been.
Louise turned slowly back toward him, expression blooming into pure delight.
"...Little Brother."
Soren braced himself.
"What?"
"This is adorable."
Soren's face twitched.
"Adorable?"
Louise nodded very seriously, as if she had just stated an objective truth.
"It looks like a little celebration," she said, walking further in and peering around as if she were touring a cute shop, eyes sparkling at every small detail. "You even put up decorations."
"I mean, I did tell you."
"I'm just surprised you actually put this much effort in," Louise said, sounding genuinely impressed.
"Well, I can't exactly say I'm throwing a party and do nothing special, can I?"
"You have a point," she conceded easily.
Louise stopped at the dining table, gaze dropping to the food, then the cups, then the neat stacks of napkins, and then she leaned forward slightly, whispering as if she had uncovered a secret.
"Did you do this all yourself?"
Soren hesitated.
"…Mostly. Lilly helped with the decorations."
Louise hummed, satisfied, then without warning, reached up and pinched his cheek between her fingers.
Soren froze.
"What are you doing?"
Louise smiled sweetly.
"Confirming."
"Confirming what exactly?"
"That you're cute," she said, like it was a normal sentence to say out loud.
Soren slapped her hand away with as much dignity as he could scrape together.
"I'm not cute. Also, don't do that."
Louise pouted again, utterly unthreatening despite the weapon at her hip.
"You've been distant lately. So I wanted to check."
His throat tightened for half a second.
He didn't like that she noticed things so easily.
…No, that wasn't true.
He liked it, he just hated what liking it implied.
So he went for the safer option.
"I hate you."
Louise gasped softly, hand to her chest in exaggerated offence.
"Little Brother, that's such a cruel thing to say," she said, wounded.
Soren sighed.
"You know I don't mean it."
"I know," Louise replied immediately, warmth returning as if nothing had happened. "That's why it's fine."
Soren looked away, cheeks slightly warm, then gestured toward the living room seating before she found something else to poke at.
"Come sit, before you start rearranging everything."
Louise's eyes widened.
"Can I rearrange?"
"No."
Louise sighed dramatically, the kind of sigh that belonged on a stage, then walked over and sat down neatly on the sofa, posture straight for about two seconds before she relaxed into it like she belonged there, like the clubroom was just another one of her places.
Soren sat opposite her, trying to match her casualness, trying to pretend his chest hadn't loosened just from having someone else in the room, from hearing another person breathe in the same space.
Louise rested her hands on her lap and tilted her head.
"So," she said lightly, "are you going to tell me what is really going on?"
Soren exhaled.
He couldn't tell her the real reason.
Not fully.
Lilliana had believed him without hesitation, but he knew she was a strange case, a person who already trusted him enough to accept something impossible because it came from him, and he didn't know if the rest would take his words seriously or if it would just make everything worse.
So, for now, he kept it to himself.
If the day ever came when he felt like they would believe it, he would spill everything without hesitation.
Not yet.
Instead, he gave her something simple.
Something safe.
"Everyone's been kind of awkward lately. So I'm trying to… reset it."
Louise blinked once.
Then her smile softened into something gentler, like she had understood more than he had said.
"Ah," she murmured quietly.
Soren held her gaze for a moment, then looked away, uncomfortable with being seen too clearly.
"It's nothing serious," he added quickly. "Just food, drinks, and… normal conversation."
Louise's eyes flicked toward the shelves.
"…Where are the drinks?"
Soren hesitated.
Then he pointed upward.
Louise followed his gesture.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"...Little Brother."
"What?"
"You hid them," she said, sounding impressed.
"I didn't hide them," Soren replied, offended on principle. "I strategically relocated them. You didn't see what happened last time we drank."
Louise giggled again, shoulders bouncing.
"That's the same thing."
Soren slumped slightly.
"You're not helping."
"I am helping," Louise insisted, and then she reached into a paper bag she had been carrying and pulled something out.
A small box.
Soren blinked.
"What's that?"
Louise held it out with both hands like she was presenting treasure.
"I brought dessert," she announced proudly.
Soren stared at the box, then at her.
"…You're really committed to the club theme, huh."
Louise smiled smugly.
"Of course. We can't have a gathering without something sweet."
He took the box carefully, like it might explode, then set it down with more care than necessary.
"…Thanks."
Louise leaned forward slightly, eyes bright and warm in a way that made the room feel less hollow.
"So," she asked, completely casual, "did you miss me?"
Soren nearly choked on air.
"What?"
Louise tilted her head, still smiling.
"You've been busy," she said, as if that explained everything. "So I'm asking."
Heat flooded his face instantly as he was caught red-handed.
"Huh? Why— what's wrong with you—"
Louise watched him flounder with obvious amusement, then laughed softly.
"See," she said, pleased. "Cute."
Soren looked away again, taking a deep breath, but the tension in his shoulders had eased, which was infuriating, because she was doing it on purpose and it was still working.
For a moment, it almost felt easy.
Almost.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
The sound came again, sharp against the clubroom door.
Soren's body reacted before his brain did, shoulders tightening, breath catching, posture going rigid as his eyes snapped toward the entrance like the knock had struck him directly.
————「❤︎」————