A/N: BYE I GOT DISTRACTED AND NOW IT'S 15 MINUTES INTO THE TUESDAY MY BAD HOMIES

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It was difficult, to say the least. Pursuing a degree in law, I mean. So many things you needed to know... So many techniques and ideas and rules and—

I slammed my head down on the desk—atop the final pages of my assignment. Final pages, I reminded myself. But even that consolation wasn't enough. So close yet so far... It was due the next day—no exceptions.

I groaned, long, loud and low, as I continuously banged my fist against the desk in a rhythmic pattern. Ah... that beat... How I'd much rather become a musician than pursue law... But I supposed that to entertain that notion was foolish.

The door opened, the hinges squeaking melodically, and someone entered, the scent of petrichor sweeping through my room. His footsteps were soft on the carpeted floor, boots clicking against it as he walked. I lifted my head from the desk to meet his gaze, his dark eyes staring down at me with concern. "What are you doing?" Neuvillette asked, voice rumbling in my very core.

"Preparing my funeral," I replied, turning to face the paper as I rubbed my eyes. He walked behind my chair and placed a plastic bag full of groceries beside me. Immediately, I began to rummage through the contents, before pulling out a cup wrapped in plastic. My stomach rumbled—and I wondered when the last time I had eaten was.

I scrambled out of my chair, the cup in hand, and headed towards the small bench along the opposing wall that served as my kitchen. It was only a small apartment—but it was more than enough for a university student such as I. Especially when money was at a low. All my funds were spent on education—and all the time I needed to work for more was taken up by said education.

I flicked the kettle on, staring at the light that lit the kettle's waters a mesmerising blue. Blue... like water... calming...

"Do you plan to eat two-minute noodles for the entirety of your degree?" Neuvi asked from behind.

I turned, bracing my hands on the bench. "I don't exactly have the time or money for full-course meals. Besides, it's a different meal if you put in different seasonings."

".. Is it now?"

I nodded, sighing through my nose. "Thank you for getting this, by the way," I added, motioning to the noodle cup. "It's been a while since I've been outside for anything besides classes."

He sighed also, before saying, "It's not a problem." I turned back to my noodles. Soon enough, the water was boiled and I poured it into the waiting cup, seasonings at the ready. The steamy scent of the seasonings wafted around me, threatening to make my knees buckle and give way. A release—from that hell of studying. Studying something I didn't even want to pursue.

Thankfully, I had met Neuvillette not long after I first joined the class. He was a year older than me and mercifully had plenty of wisdom to impart on my naive self—which I had gratefully accepted without hesitation. It was no stretch to say that without him, I certainly wouldn't have passed so easily. Though, I wouldn't call this course "easy".

"You've gotten better at these sorts of assignments," I heard him say and turned, the cup warming my hands as I grasped it while the noodles soaked.

"You think so?" I asked.

He half-turned from my papers and met my gaze, nodding. "Certainly. Your practice has paid off." His expression relaxed slightly, softening, as he said, "I think you'll be fine on your own for the upcoming exams."

My stomach churned at the word—exams. I hated them. The stress that came with the very word was enough to knock me off my feet for a good few days. He must've noticed the small inkling of anxiety in my eyes as he walked over. He was tall, his figure towering over me. But... he was gentle. Despite his largely aloof demeanour, he was... kind. To me, at least. Perhaps he recognised my struggle and wanted to help. Even if he didn't like me as a person and only aided me due to pity. No one else had. He was the only one I could turn to. So even if his help wasn't out of the goodness of his heart, I would welcome it with open arms.

But he said, "You're stressing out again."

My fingers tapped against the cup, my growing nails clicking against it in a rhythmic beat. Ah... the music of desolation... So haunting... and yet so comforting... It didn't matter what it represented, I supposed. I just found shelter within musical sound. If I could, I'd bury myself within it and never uncover myself. If I could, I'd travel to the realm of melodies and never return. If I could, I'd fall asleep to the music of the night and never wake up.

But my every thought—both conscious and not—were consumed by anxieties of tests and exams and studies and the very concept of living. Perhaps it was my own fault for not being good enough. If that were the case, then maybe I deserved to wither away as I was, wasting into nothing and no one. Every effort I'd ever made would be in vain. But I guess that was just my fate.

Because if I had the ability to defy fate, I would not be here. I would be somewhere else, far far away... playing a toubeleki drum in the street during the midday lunch rush, entertaining dancing and laughing children and peacefully listening-in elderly residents alike.

Ah... yes... Peace... So very very far from here...

I heard my name called and snapped out of whatever daze I was in, looking up from the noodle cup to Neuvi's deep piercing eyes—eyes that saw right through me. His gloved hands took the cup from my fingers with such ease, and I wondered if I was close to dropping the thing. He took a fork from the bench and began to stir in the seasonings.

So the noodles were ready. Though I seemed to have been content to stand there in my despair until they became soggy and inedible. I watched him with tired eyes as he sniffed the steam wafting out of it. "Soup?"

I nodded. "Chicken."

He handed the cup back to me—a silent instruction to eat—before he sat himself down on my bed. I sat beside him, the weight on the mattress shifting, his scent washing over me with a calmness so pure it almost pierced my weary soul. Ah, the bed... So soft... so welcoming... I wished I could just curl up within its covers where it was warm—where it was safe and sound and peaceful.

"If you like chicken soup, I can make some for you. It's certainly much more healthy than that."

I shook my head. "You do enough for me."

"You mean—collect your groceries that you pay for?"

I shrugged. "Well, I can't have you paying for me, now can I?"

Neuvi sighed through his nose, that broad chest rising and falling. "I don't mind helping you out."

"I do."

He paused. Yes... I did mind. I did mind when I relied on other people when I could rely on myself. I wasn't going to become someone's problem—even if I had already become his.

I twisted the fork around in the cup, gathering the noodles, before lifting it to my mouth. They were... slightly soggy. But thankfully, still edible. The noodles would provide me with enough energy to last until midnight, I decided as I laid my hand on my lap. I didn't even realise it was shaking until Neuvillette placed his hand gently on my wrist—careful not to grab my hand. As if unsure I would be comfortable with that.

I wanted to smile at that thought. But all I could do was stare wearily at the hand belonging to the one person who bothered to comfort me. I twisted my hand, laying it flat on his palm. I didn't look up to see his facial expression—to see if he had let anything slip past the constant stern expression. I had never seen him smile. And I wondered if he ever would—and what would incite such an emotion.

My fingers interlaced with his—to his surprise, it seemed, judging from the sudden stiffness in his body. The warmness of his hand, the gentleness of his hold... I never knew how much I needed it. Regardless of who it was, I needed that touch—the comfort that came with it. Maybe I was alone and this was only temporary but—

"Y/n." I turned my head to meet his gaze at last. "I have a question for you."

"Ask away." I didn't notice how tired I had actually become—how drained my voice was.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze averted as if wondering if he should ask what was on his mind, before he looked back at me with a slight inhale. "Why are you here, Y/n?"

".. What do you mean?"

Neuvillette pursed his lips, thinking of the right thing to say. "I am here in this university... because I feel like I have an obligation to pursue justice. But you... you are not here because of that. I want to be here. You do not. So tell me, Y/n. Why are you here?" he repeated.

I paused and thought about it. I... supposed I didn't know. Deep inside. I often asked myself the same question, but never came to an answer. Never knowing why I was here. Never knowing what I was doing with myself. Never knowing what I would do after all this torture.

I looked away, staring at the carpet, worn and bleak beneath my feet. Like my future. Like my life. A solitary tear rolled down my cheek—though it wasn't sadness I felt. It was... emptiness, I realised, as I found myself at a loss for words. A tear devoid of emotion. "I don't know..." I whispered at last. There was some sort of alarm gleaming in his eyes as I looked at him again—one of the first things I had seen showing through that stoic expression.

He raised a hand, before hesitating halfway—and then continuing. I watched as he slowly lifted that hand to my cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb. It seemed he was just as unused to this kind of interaction as I was. And I almost smiled at how sweet it was.

He lowered his hand, waiting patiently for me to continue. And if there was nothing else to say, then he would wait beside me nonetheless. Waiting for what, I didn't know. Perhaps until I shoved him out of my apartment. But I could never do that. Not to him. I enjoyed his company too much to order him to leave, I admitted to myself.

My lip quivered, before I inhaled and I spoke again. "I wasn't forced... Not in the sense of other people making me come here by use of threats and coercion." He seemed to relax at that—at the possibility of such a thing occurring being no more.

"Was it your parents?" he asked.

I shook my head. "My parents couldn't care less about what I do with my life. What that says about my relationship with them I... don't know. But... it wasn't them who told me to do this. It was my teachers. High school teachers, to be specific. They told me it'd be a waste of talent if I didn't pursue something like law. And I... didn't want to let anyone down so I... I'm here. Wasting away despite everything..."

Neuvi hummed in understanding, then said, "You are intelligent, Y/n. I know you might not believe so, but it shines through in your studies. You have the capabilities needed to complete this course—and beyond that. I can understand why they would push you to this path."

I averted my gaze. Guess he really didn't understand—

"But," he continued, reaching over to gently grip my chin, turning my head back to him. "But... I know what they failed to see. That it is not what you want." He angled his head slightly, and I felt like I was a book, my covers wide open for him to read. "That's what hurts you, isn't it? The fact that you feel like in trying to please other people, you're letting yourself down. But if you do what you want, you'll displease those whom you seek approval from. Correct?"

Was I so readable? Slowly, I nodded. The hand that still gripped my own squeezed it ever-so-slightly.

"What matters more to you, Y/n?" I opened my mouth to reply—but found I could give no answer. I wasn't sure. "Where do you want to be?"

"Where do I... want... I want..." I looked past Neuvillette to my desk. Beneath it, I had a guitar placed, ready to play.

And yet, it hadn't been touched since I had placed it there three years ago.

He followed my gaze and noted the polished wooden instrument. "Do you play?" he asked.

"I used to. When I had the time."

He turned back to me. "Will you play something for me?"

I blinked. He wanted... me to play something? For him? At first, I thought it had to be some sort of joke. He didn't seem to have a sense of humour, but if he did, it would surely be strange. But as I gazed into his dark eyes, I saw nothing of the sort—only pure curiosity.

So I stood and walked towards the guitar—placing my surely now inedible noodles to the side—kneeling as I reached for it. My fingers wrapped around the cool wood for the first time in what felt like an eternity—and it felt right. A sense of familiarity washed through me and I brought the guitar back to the bed, resting it on my lap. I stared at it, getting a feel of it. Treating it as if it were an old friend.

But I was nervous. Let myself dream again... Could I do it? And once I started to play again, would I be able to stop? My studies came first. I couldn't just forget about—

"If I may," Neuvillette said, interrupting my thoughts as if he had read them. "I believe... with my limited emotional understanding... that one should not forsake what is precious to them. And this..." He ran his fingers down the length of one of the strings, plucking it—eyes glistening at the sound it made. So beautiful. So heavenly. My eyes almost watered again at the note that played, echoing around the room—and I realised I had missed it more than I thought I did. "This is very precious to you," he finished.

I adjusted the guitar's position on my lap and held it, dredging up long-forgotten memories of tunes and sheet music and melodies and harmonies and all the rest of it. "Yes," I said as I began to tune the instrument. "It is."

And then... I began to play. It was such a pretty sound... Something that had been buried. For a very long time. My body began to shake somewhere along the line. Perhaps I was crying. Perhaps I was just simply overwhelmed. But I continued to play.

I glanced once at Neuvillette—and on his lips was the tiniest of smiles. The first I had seen from him. The moment he noticed my gaze, that smile disappeared, trying to hide it—but the joy glittering in his ethereal eyes betrayed him. He was... a beautiful man—made more so when he smiled. So much more. I wondered why he didn't smile—and then wondered if I could be the one to make him do so.

A sort of arrogance and greed filled me, then. Be the one to make him smile—as I was still trying to make myself smile. But perhaps this was what I was meant to do. Bring joy. And the tune that I played changed as I moulded it into a melody that reminded me of the man sitting before me—and that small smile grew ever-so-slightly. He was the song—the song was him. And I would remember this tune for as long as I lived.

The songs that I had played back to back soon came to an end, my fingers aching from playing for an undetermined length of time. It must've been late as my body was telling me it was time for rest. Much needed rest. And though that assignment was due the very next day... I was calm. I couldn't achieve much tired. After my body had rested, I would finish it.

I met Neuvillette's gaze once more and offered a soft smile. He still sat there, listening, waiting, watching. As patient as he had always been. But his face glowed with an emotion I had not seen before—and realised it had appeared when I had played the song I had dedicated to him. I didn't tell him—and hadn't planned to—but perhaps he had realised just by listening. After all, the emotions carried in music were transcendent of words. "Thank you," I said at last.

He inclined his head in response. "Finish your course," he said. "I know you have the strength to do so. Complete these final exams. And then pursue what you love." He ran his fingers along the bottom of the neck of the guitar. "I have a feeling you'll go far—and be exactly where you want to be."

I lifted my gaze from his gloved hand to his face and asked, "And you? What will you do?" For I would do as he said—finish what I had started, and then go off and do my own thing, regardless of the expectations.

"I will still move forward on this path," he answered. "As I stated previously, I feel obligated to do my part for this world—and that part is to find the meaning of justice. As for you..." He allowed another small smile onto his face. "Perhaps your part in this world is to bring joy and smiles to people through your music—as you have for me. I feel like you would enjoy that."

My smile widened and I nodded. "I would. Very much so." I paused, thinking for a moment, before saying, "I won't see you again after that, will I?" My tone was solemn as the thought crossed my mind. "After I've completed my final exams. After... after all you've done for me... I'm just going to leave you."

He placed a hand on my own—exactly how it had been before. "I require nothing in return. You owe me nothing. Clear?" I nodded slowly, even though I didn't really feel that way. As if reading my thoughts, Neuvillette added, "Perhaps one day I'll hear one of your songs as I pass by you in the street. Seeing you again will be enough—but the joy I'll feel from the notes you play will be enough to pay me back for all I have done for you, I'm sure."

".. Alright." If it was enough for him, then... perhaps it could be enough for me. My only supporter was encouraging me to go ahead. He was always right. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave—to forge my own path, out of this wasting darkness and into the light. I offered the best smile I could muster. "Then I look forward to seeing you when that time comes."

"As do I." Neuvillette stood from the bed and dusted off his clothes. "It is past midnight. I should retreat to my own accommodation. Good night, Y/n. May the rains guide you to a peaceful sleep."

I beamed at him. "Thank you," I said again. "For all you have done—and more. I wouldn't have made it these past fews years without you—and it seems I wouldn't have found a way to survive the next few years without you, either." I took a slight breath as the full weight of my fatigue finally settled on my shoulders. "Good night... Neuvi."

He began to walk out, and I followed him to the door, when he paused on the threshold. He turned, lips parted, hesitation written on his gorgeous face, before saying, "I... really liked that song you played." And he knew I knew which one he was referring to. "I would be honoured... if you could play it for me again sometime."

A warm feeling fluttered in my chest, a light cleaving through the growing darkness in my vision. Tired... So so tired... "Maybe you'll hear it when you pass me by on the street."

He smiled slightly—then clutched my shoulders tightly as I swayed forwards. I could have made it to bed on my own. At least, I thought I could have. But as he waved a hand in front of my face, the scent of fresh dew on a cool morning and damp earth after the rains wrapped around me, caressing me, lulling me to sleep right there in his arms.

When I awoke again, I was tucked tightly beneath the warm covers of my bed, that pure aquatic scent still clinging to me. Sunlight filtered through the closed blinds nearby. My night had been... peaceful—just as Neuvillette had wished. Worries of the future no longer plagued me. At least, not that night. A first.

But what surprised me even more wasn't my peace—no, that was to be expected after the night before. What surprised me was the lingering touch I felt upon my lips.

As if they had been gently