Louise smiled like someone had just handed her a problem with a very obvious solution, the kind she could fix with sugar and audacity.
"Okay," she said, clapping her hands together once, crisp and decisive, then leaning forward over the table as if she were about to deliver state secrets. "So. Earlier, when I went to see Shirone…"
Soren's posture shifted before he could stop himself, shoulders angling in, attention narrowing, like he could physically drag the story out of her faster.
"Hurry up."
Louise nodded with the solemnity of a knight receiving orders, then instantly ruined it with the way her eyes sparkled.
"We went to this place that sells themed cakes," she began. "Seasonal ones. Limited editions."
Esper's shoulders, which had been sitting too high all night, loosened by the tiniest amount, almost imperceptible unless you were watching for it.
"Limited editions…?"
"Yes," Louise said, as if that was the most crucial part of the entire story. "And they had one shaped like a little fox."
Soren narrowed his eyes, suspicious on principle.
"…A fox?"
"A fox," Louise confirmed, delighted, her hands already moving as she described it. "It had tiny ears. A little tail made of cream. And the strawberries were placed like paw pads."
Olivia's lips twitched, the expression tugging at her like she wanted to laugh but didn't quite trust the room to hold it.
"That sounds really cute," she said softly, the words gentle and careful.
"It was adorable," Louise agreed, as if that was a fact of nature. "So I ordered it."
Soren tilted his head, waiting for the part where this turned into whatever "stupid" meant in Louise's vocabulary.
"And that's the stupid part?"
Louise huffed, offended.
"No. That's the normal part."
She raised a finger, her expression snapping back into seriousness like she could switch modes at will.
"The stupid part is that I asked them if they could make it… cuter."
Silence settled, heavy enough that Soren heard the faint clink of someone shifting their cutlery.
Then Esper let out a tiny, strangled noise, halfway between disbelief and a laugh that didn't know if it was allowed to exist.
"…How do you make a cake cuter than a fox cake?"
Louise's eyes widened, as if Esper had perfectly echoed her own inner suffering.
"Exactly. That was also what the staff member said."
Soren stared at her, trying to picture the employee's face, trying not to.
Despite himself, his mouth quirked.
"What did you ask for?"
Louise leaned forward, like a conspirator.
"I asked if they could add a bow."
Soren's smile faltered for half a second, then he forced it back up because the room had given him something warm and he wasn't letting go.
"A bow."
"Yeah," Louise said, earnest, and for a moment she looked like she meant it with her entire soul. "A tiny one. Like…"
She mimed the spot with precise fingers.
"Right here."
A breath pushed out through Soren's nose, a quiet snort he couldn't fully suppress.
"And what did they say?"
Louise's shoulders lifted with excitement, the story building toward its climax as if this mattered more than the politics of their engagement, more than the rumours, more than the week that had been chewing them all up.
"They said they could," she announced, triumphant, then her face twisted in fresh outrage. "But then Shirone told me I was embarrassing."
Soren's snort turned into an actual laugh, short, surprised.
"That's because you are."
Louise gasped so loudly it was theatrical, hand coming to her chest as if he had stabbed her with a butter knife.
"Little Brother."
"What?"
"You're being mean."
"I'm being honest," Soren corrected automatically, then, because he could feel the room watching the shape of every word, he added quickly, "in a loving way."
Louise brightened instantly, as if the "loving" rewrote everything.
"Oh," she said, satisfied. "Okay."
The way she accepted it so easily almost made the room breathe again, almost made it feel like they were back in a place where teasing didn't carry weight.
Almost.
Undeterred, Louise continued, hands animated, voice carrying the same bubbly momentum.
"So anyway, I got the cake, and Shirone was scolding me, and I told her that if she didn't like it, she didn't have to eat it."
Esper's lips curled into the faintest smile, something tired but real.
"And then she ate it anyway."
Olivia laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand like she was trying to be polite about it, like she didn't want to take up too much space.
It was the first proper sound of laughter Soren had heard tonight, the first one that wasn't strained or forced or carefully measured, and it hit him like a small spark against cold skin.
He clung to it immediately.
"So the moral of the story," he said quickly, leaning into the moment while he still had it, "is that Shirone has no spine."
Louise nodded firmly, serious again.
"Yes."
A beat passed.
Alex's mouth twitched, barely, like the idea had slipped past his control for a second.
Felix didn't react outwardly, not with his face anyway, but his shoulders eased by a fraction, subtle and reluctant, as if the laughter had reminded him how to be human for half a breath.
Soren latched onto that, too, grabbing any sign of movement like it was a rope.
He leaned back and spread his arms slightly, posture loose on purpose, voice light, too light.
"See?" he said. "This is normal. We're fine. We're doing it."
The words landed in the middle of the table.
And then they died there.
Because the room didn't respond the way it should have.
No eye-rolls. No groans. No insult tossed back to keep the rhythm going. Nobody took the bait, nobody pushed at him the way they always did when things were actually okay.
Instead, everyone just… looked at him.
Like they were watching him perform.
Like they were waiting for the moment the smile slipped, for the moment he stopped pretending.
Soren's grin tightened, the muscles starting to strain at the edges, and he could feel it, the ache of holding something up too long.
"So," he said, keeping it in place anyway, "anyone else got something stupid?"
Esper's fingers twisted around her cup, knuckles pale against the porcelain. She opened her mouth—
Then shut it again.
Felix's gaze dropped to the table, jaw set.
Lilliana's ears drooped slightly, eyes fixed on the tablecloth like it had answers woven into it, like she could find something safe to say if she stared long enough.
Amelia's eyes stayed on Soren, steady and quiet.
Too steady.
The quiet pressed in, slow and patient, as if it knew it would win if it waited.
Soren's throat tightened. Without thinking, he reached for another topic, like he was juggling knives and couldn't afford to drop one.
"Felix," he said, turning toward him, forcing brightness into his tone, "tell us about how miserable you were during your written exam."
Felix's head snapped up, startled, as if he had been dragged back into the room by the collar.
Then his expression went flat.
"…It was fine."
Soren blinked.
That wasn't like Felix.
Felix complained. Felix insulted. Felix made every mild inconvenience sound like a personal offence from the universe.
A short laugh slipped out of Soren anyway, too quick, too sharp at the edges.
"That's it?"
Felix's jaw flexed, eyes flicking once, not quite meeting Soren's.
"…What do you want me to say?"
It wasn't aggressive, not really, and Felix's voice didn't rise, but it hit Soren wrong, like a sudden shove to the ribs, because the question wasn't about exams at all.
His mouth opened, then closed, then he tried again, too fast, too eager to patch the hole.
"I— I don't know," Soren said, voice tripping. "Something normal."
Felix's gaze flickered once, fast enough that Soren might've missed it if he weren't already keyed in to every micro-shift in the room.
Guilt.
Then Felix looked away again, fingers tightening around his cup.
Soren turned to Esper immediately, desperate to keep the momentum alive, to keep the silence from returning.
"Essy," he said, too brightly, "say something annoying."
Esper flinched.
Actually flinched, shoulders jerking like his voice had startled her, and the reaction punched straight through Soren's ribs.
Her smile tried to appear anyway, dutiful, thin.
"…I'm always annoying."
Soren nodded too quickly.
"Good. Then do it."
Esper's eyes darted to Lilliana, then to Olivia, then back to Soren, like she was checking who she was allowed to be around, what version of herself was acceptable right now.
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
The grin stayed on Soren's face, held there by sheer stubbornness, and it was starting to hurt.
Silence crept in again, curling around the edges of the room, uninvited but familiar.
Louise shifted forward, clearly sensing the drop, clearly refusing to let it settle.
"Oh!" she said, voice bright, hands lifting like she could physically hold the atmosphere up. "We could play a game."
Esper latched onto it immediately, relief flashing across her face so fast it almost looked like panic.
"Yes. A game. That's perfect."
Olivia nodded faintly, like she was grateful for anything with structure.
"A game sounds nice…"
Lilliana blinked, as if surprised to be included in a normal suggestion, then echoed it quietly.
"A game…?"
Louise looked around the table, pleased, like she had successfully redirected a runaway carriage.
"What game should we play?"
Soren opened his mouth to answer.
Then stopped.
Because something clicked all at once, simple and brutal.
It didn't matter what game they played, it didn't matter what topic he dragged out next, it didn't matter how many jokes Louise told, or how bright he made his voice, or how carefully he arranged the room to feel like it used to.
They were still holding back.
Still careful. Still tense. Still watching each other like the air would shatter if anyone moved wrong.
And the longer it went on, the more pressure built inside his chest.
Not anger, not resentment, nothing sharp enough to justify itself, just exhaustion, a slow sinking kind that made everything feel heavier than it should.
He hadn't eaten properly in days.
Sleep hadn't been real sleep either, more like a series of short, shallow pauses where his body quit on him and his mind didn't.
A week of watching people he cared about look at him like he was something unpleasant, something to envy, something to tear at, and he had kept telling himself it wasn't their fault, because it wasn't, he still believed that, but believing it didn't erase the ache.
Now he was sitting here, trying so hard to glue the pieces back together, and it still felt like he was doing it alone.
Soren's fingers curled against the edge of the table, nails pressing into the wood, smile twitching like it was losing its grip.
Louise was still talking, offering ideas, trying to keep the atmosphere alive, but her voice blurred at the edges because Soren's head was full of one thought, stubborn and miserable.
'Why isn't it working?'
His chest tightened, sharp and sudden, and then—
Thud.
His palm slammed down on the table.
The sound cracked through the room like a whip, loud enough that cups rattled, cutlery jumped, and everyone froze on instinct.
Esper jolted so hard her shoulders jumped.
Lilliana's ears shot upright in alarm.
Olivia went pale, eyes wide and glassy.
Even Alex's composure cracked, his eyes widening slightly for the first time tonight.
Soren didn't look up.
He didn't even realise what he had done until the silence hit him, sudden and absolute, and he stared at the wood beneath his hand as if it might explain why his body had moved without permission.
His fingers trembled.
"…Shit," he muttered.
Both hands came up, slow, then covered his face, elbows on the table as if the weight had finally caught up to him and he couldn't hold himself upright anymore.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Soren's breathing sounded too loud in his own ears, rougher than he wanted it to be, and after a second he slid down from his stiff posture, shoulders sinking, then slumped back into his chair like a puppet with its strings cut.
His hands dropped into his lap.
His gaze stayed on the table, unfocused.
"…Sorry," he murmured, voice flat.
The room stayed quiet, not because they didn't care, not because they were angry, but because nobody knew where to put their hands, their eyes, their words.
Soren's mouth opened again, and the truth spilled out before he could stop it, because holding it back suddenly felt impossible.
"I'm trying," he said quietly.
The words weren't sharp, weren't angry, just tired.
"I'm trying so hard to make it normal again."
His fingers curled, then loosened, indecisive, like he couldn't tell whether he was meant to hold on or let go.
"I know you didn't mean it," he continued, eyes still down. "I know you didn't wake up and decide to… act like that."
Esper's breath hitched.
Felix's shoulders tensed, then sagged.
Soren swallowed, voice low, almost numb.
"But it still happened."
A pause, thin and ugly.
"I kept telling myself if I just acted normal, then you'd feel normal," he said, the logic sounding pathetic as he spoke it, like a plan built out of hope and stubbornness rather than reality. "And if you felt normal, then we could just… move on."
A hollow laugh puffed out, barely there.
"But it's not working."
Louise, who had been smiling so brightly all night, looked stricken now, the expression caught between worry and guilt.
"Little Brother…" she whispered.
Soren didn't look up, because if he did, he didn't trust what he would see on their faces.
"I don't want to be treated like I'm fragile," he said, the words tightening on the way out. "I don't want everyone looking at me like they're waiting for me to break. I don't want—"
His voice wavered, just once, and he pressed his lips together hard, forcing it back into place.
"I just want it to go back," he finished, quieter.
A beat.
Then another.
In that stillness, Amelia finally moved.
Not dramatically, not loudly, no sudden comfort that would make it feel like he had earned pity.
She simply reached forward and set her food down carefully, like she was putting away a weapon, then looked at him with the same steady, unapologetic focus she always had.
"…You're acting weird," she said.
Soren's fingers twitched.
Amelia didn't sound cruel, she didn't sound annoyed, she sounded honest in the way only she could be, and there was something guilty under it, like she had been watching him hurt himself and didn't know what to do with that feeling.
"You're smiling too much," she added.
Soren flinched faintly, the words landing too accurately.
Olivia looked horrified at the bluntness, as if she wanted to apologise on Amelia's behalf, but Amelia didn't soften, because she wasn't attacking him.
"You keep talking like you're fine," Amelia continued, gaze steady, voice quiet. "But you don't feel fine."
His throat tightened. He still didn't lift his head, because being seen right now felt like something he didn't deserve.
Felix finally spoke, voice rough, as if he had been scraping it out of his chest.
"…I don't know what to say."
Soren drew in a slow breath, shoulders rising and falling.
"I'm not asking you to say the perfect thing," he said, still looking down. "I'm asking you to say anything."
Esper's hands were shaking. She set her cup down with too much care, like she was afraid it would shatter if she didn't treat it gently.
"Soren…" she started, voice small.
She swallowed hard, throat working like the words physically hurt.
"I— I keep thinking about what I said," she admitted.
Soren's eyes flickered, but he still didn't lift his head fully.
Esper pushed on, trembling, forcing honesty through the cracks.
"I don't even understand why I said it, but I did. And I meant it in the moment, and that's what scares me."
Her smile was gone completely now, mask discarded.
"I don't want you to think that's who I am," she said, voice breaking. "Because it isn't. But I did it anyway."
Soren finally lifted his gaze.
Not all the way, not to their faces, just enough to stop staring at the wood grain, eyes settling on the middle of the table like that was safer.
His expression felt blank, not because he didn't care, but because there wasn't anything left to perform with.
"I know," he said quietly.
Lilliana's fingers tightened around her napkin, knuckles pale. She looked like she wanted to reach across and grab his sleeve the way she always did, like she wanted to anchor him with touch.
But she didn't.
Instead, her voice came out soft, trembling.
"Ren…"
Soren's eyes shifted toward her, and something in his face cracked, tiny and involuntary.
"You don't have to—" he started, reflexive, because he always tried to take the burden first.
"I do," Lilliana said, firmer than before, even as her ears trembled. "Because I've been sitting here watching you try to carry it alone."
She swallowed.
"You're allowed to be tired," she said, voice gentle, almost pleading.
Soren stared at her for a long second.
Then his shoulders sagged even further, like the permission had finally cut the last thread.
"…I am," he whispered.
Two words.
Simple.
And it hit the room harder than the table slam, because it was real, and because it was the thing he had been refusing to give them all night.
Louise's eyes shimmered, but she didn't cry, she just reached forward and took one of Soren's hands where it rested on the table, slow and careful, warm and grounding.
"You don't have to perform," she said softly. "We're here."
Soren looked at her hand on his, and he didn't pull away, didn't force a smile back onto his face either, he just stared, breathing slowly, like he was trying to remember how to exist without pretending.
A long silence passed.
But it wasn't the same silence as before.
It wasn't avoidance, it wasn't empty, it was everyone finally sitting in the same truth, uncomfortable and shared.
Alex exhaled quietly, gaze lowered, voice calm in the way he used when he didn't trust his emotions to behave.
"…So what do you want us to do?"
Soren's throat worked. He blinked once, then finally looked up properly, meeting faces instead of porcelain and tablecloth.
Not bright.
Not cheerful.
Just honest.
"Talk to me," he said. "Even if it's awkward. Even if you don't know what to say. Just… don't disappear."
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Olivia nodded, eyes soft.
"We won't," she said gently.
Felix's jaw clenched, and he forced the word out like it hurt.
"…Yeah."
Esper nodded too fast, eyes wet.
"Yeah."
Amelia nodded once, simple and steady, as if it had never been a question for her.
Lilliana's ears drooped, relief making her look smaller.
"Okay."
Soren stared at them, chest loosening in slow, reluctant increments, not fixed, not healed, but less sharp, less lonely.
A long breath left him.
"…Okay," he said again, quieter, the word sounding different this time, like it meant something.
After a pause, his gaze drifted toward the high shelf where the drinks were "strategically placed," the place he'd been avoiding all night like it was a temptation and a failure at the same time.
He didn't stand.
Didn't reach.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, exhaustion written plainly on his face, no effort left to hide it.
"Give me five minutes," he muttered.
Louise squeezed his hand once, gentle, steady.
"Okay," she said warmly. "We can do that."
And for the first time that night, the room felt like it was waiting with him, not watching him struggle alone.
————「❤︎」————