The crowd seemed to part around them as they moved, or maybe that was just her imagination. She stumbled over her own feet, nearly colliding with someone, but Yves steadied her without breaking stride.

When they reached a spot with slightly more space, he spun her slightly, just enough to position them face to face.

She stumbled again, this time almost falling. "Okay, okay, maybe not like that," he said, laughing as he caught her.

She glared at him. "You think?"

He swallowed before answering, his smile softening into something less teasing. "Relax, just move a little. Nobody's judging you."

"That's a lie," she muttered, hyper-aware of the curious glances from the edges of the room.

Wait.

She blinked, actually looking around for the first time. The nearest group of people was at least six feet away. And beyond them, another gap. And another.

It was a circle. They'd made a circle around her. Around them.

Of course they had, they always did, she was used to it. But Yves was standing right there, and he didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he didn't care?

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Okay, fine. They're definitely judging you."

Her eyes snapped to his, like he'd just confirmed her worst fear. For a second, she looked genuinely hurt, like the little trust he was able to build with her suddenly collapsed.

"Wait– no–" Yves's smile dropped instantly. "I was joking. Juno, I'm kidding–"

But she'd already stepped back, pulling free from his hands and her breathing was a little faster.

"Hey." His voice softened, reaching for her hand again. "Nobody's judging you. I promise. I was just– That was stupid. I'm sorry."

She stared at the floor, clenching her jaw and pressing her lips together in thought.

"Look at me," Yves said quietly.

She didn't.

"Juno."

Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze.

His expression had shifted into something she couldn't quite read. "I don't care about anyone else here," he said, and there was an edge to his voice she hadn't heard before. He seemed frustrated now. "These people–" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening slightly as he glanced around. When he looked back at her, something in his expression softened. "You don't do that fake thing they all do. You know?"

He ran a hand through his hair, that nervous gesture again. "I just mean... you're not exhausting to be around."

Her worried expression shifted to a confused one. What the hell was he talking about? She'd spent her whole life being the person people avoided, the one they whispered about.

“Why did you invite me here?”

He looked at her for a moment, like the answer was obvious. "Because I wanted you here." He paused and looked away, his blue eyes darting nervously. She wasn't sure if his cheeks had gotten pink or if it was just the lightning. "With me."

Her heart skipped, but the confusion remained since that didn't really answer her question. Why was he like this? Why didn't he feel it, that thing that made people step back from her without realizing?

He was standing so close, closer than anyone had stood in years. And he looked... fine, normal. Like being near her didn't cost him anything, like he actually wanted to be here.

The thought escaped her comprehension.

She let him take her hand again. This time he didn't pull, he just held it. She took a small step closer, and his fingers laced through hers. His hand was warm against her cold one, almost like he wanted to warm her up.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Okay," he echoed, relief crossing his face.

The music shifted to something slower, and Juno found herself swaying a little.

His other hand found her waist, settling there carefully. He glanced down, suddenly uncertain, like he wasn't sure if this was okay. When he looked back up at her through his lashes, there was something almost shy in his expression.

His hands were warm, steady without being restrictive. There was no crawling sensation, no urgent need to escape. She didn't understand it. Didn't understand why he was different.

She should hate this, want to step back, put distance between them. Every instinct she'd honed over years of isolation screamed that letting someone this close would only hurt more when they inevitably left.

"See?" he said softly. "Not so bad."

Juno pressed her lips together and looked up at him. Something softer flickered in her expression, not trust yet, but close.

For a moment, the room faded. All of the things that disgusted her of society dissolved into background noise. It was just them, swaying slightly off-beat, her hand in his, his hand on her waist.

She became aware of small details. How his chest rose and fell with each breath. How his gaze was softer than she'd ever seen it, almost sweet. It still felt weird, like learning a language she'd never been taught. But it wasn't entirely... bad.

Her chest felt warm, but it wasn't the painful and suffocating kind her illness caused.

"You know," Yves murmured, "I had a feeling you'd clean up nice. But this?" He paused, and suddenly he was much closer, leaning in until she could see the exact shade of blue in his eyes. His fingers tightened around hers and his voice dropped to a whisper. "You look really pretty, Juno."

Her face went hot and she jerked back slightly, eyes widening. What the hell? His hand at her waist pulled her back gently but firm. His lips pressed together slightly, cheeks pink, like he couldn't quite believe he'd said that out loud.

He was lying, obviously. People didn't say things like that to her, not seriously, since pretty wasn’t a word that fitted her, exactly.

"You don't have to–" she started, then stopped. She didn't finish. What was she even trying to say?

Yves tilted his head slightly, trying to catch her gaze, and a piece of his hair fell across his face. He was waiting, like he genuinely wanted to hear whatever half-formed thought she couldn't articulate.

She just shook her head, still not looking at him.

His smile widened, and it was soft and a little amazed, like he couldn't quite believe she was still here, still letting him hold her hand, still trying even though everything probably told her to run.

She caught it from the corner of her eye and immediately turned her head further away, focusing very intently on absolutely nothing. That somehow made her face even hotter, and she still didn't understand why he was like this.

But then, something moved at the edge of her vision.

At the far end of the room, near the dark hallway. There was the small black cat with violet eyes, watching her, waiting.

Her breath caught for a different reason now.

No.

No, no, no.

The warmth in her chest faded, replaced by an overwhelming sensation. A sharp and familiar pain ran through her ribs, like something was breaking inside her. She coughed once, twice, and her vision blurred for a moment. The air became suffocating, pressing on her lungs.

Yves caught the change immediately. His hands tightened on her waist, steadying her. "Juno? What's wrong?"

Juno staggered backward, breaking contact. The loss of his touch was immediate and disorienting, like stepping from solid ground into open air. She pressed a hand against her chest with trembling fingers, breathing unevenly. The cat didn't move, just kept staring at her.

It felt like the room was shrinking around her, and the edges of her vision were fading into a tunnel. She couldn't look away from those eyes.

"Juno?" Yves repeated, his tone urgent now. He reached for her again.

But Juno couldn't look away from the cat. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, but her throat tightened and the words died there.

Tick, tock.

She could hear it.

The clock.

Tick, tock.

Louder.

Yves reached out instinctively, but Juno stepped back too quickly. She hadn't realized how close she was to the table and her hand crashed against something. Before she could process it, the birthday cake toppled over, splashing its contents across the floor with a horrible wet sound. A collective gasp filled the room, followed by a heavy silence that seemed to stretch forever.

Juno's stomach sank into a void. Every eye in the room turned toward her: some looking at her with shock, others with barely concealed annoyance, some people were laughing. The birthday girl's face twisted into an expression that was the perfect mixture of disbelief and disgust.

"Oh my God," someone whispered. "She just ruined the cake."

Juno's face flushed hot. Her hands clenched into fists and she tried so hard to keep her gaze away from everyone.

The room tilted slightly, or maybe that was just her. Her lungs constricted, each breath coming shorter than the last.

She realized this was it, this was the punchline. The moment she'd be waiting for all night. She was ready for it, or at least that's what she thought.

So she forced herself to look at Yves, bracing for the smile, the shared glance with his friends, the moment he'd finally drop the act and reveal this had all been an elaborate setup.

But when she looked at him, there was no amusement. Only confusion, worry etched across his features. His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he didn't know what had just happened but desperately wanted to understand, like he truly wanted to help her. 

The birthday girl turned sharply toward Yves, reaching for his arm with a possessive familiarity. "I didn't even want her here. It was your stupid idea–"

But Yves wrinkled his nose and pulled away before her fingers could make contact, his eyes never leaving Juno's face.

Juno recognized it immediately. She'd done it a thousand times herself, that split-second flinch when someone reached for her without permission, when unwanted hands got too close.

He did it too.

And that destroyed her more than any laughter could. No. He destroyed her, the entirety of him.

Because he wasn't laughing, he was just looking at her, and his expression was full of something that looked almost like panic, like he was watching something precious shatter and didn't know how to stop it.

Juno felt something crack inside her chest, both physically and metaphorically. Her trembling hand pressed harder against her sternum.

She felt like she couldn't get enough air. The room was too hot, too bright, too full of eyes, voices and that persistent ringing in her ears that meant her body was giving up on her again.

She couldn't stand the worry in his eyes, the way he'd just rejected someone else's touch without even noticing because he was too focused on her. She'd been so sure that this whole night was leading to this moment, but he wasn't laughing.

And somehow that was worse. Because it meant he actually cared, or he pitied her. And she didn't know which possibility hurt more.

She hated pity more than mockery… At least that was honest.

Her vision swam at the edges, darkening in a way it never had before. It felt like someone was slowly turning down the lights. Yves opened his mouth, stepping toward her, his hand reaching out.

But she couldn't let him say something kind when she already felt so small, or let him see her collapse, couldn't add that humiliation to the night's collection.

She turned around quickly and the room spun. She had to grab onto someone's shoulder to steady herself before pushing past them.

She didn't care who called out behind her.

It didn't matter anymore, especially because she was already halfway out of this world.

Outside, Juno pressed her back against the rough trunk of a tree, while struggling to stabilize her breathing, which made her chest rise and fall. The cold night air chilled her, but she could barely notice it.

She had proven to everyone what they already thought.

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms as the pressure in her chest increased. It would be easier to leave, quit university, disappear before causing more damage, before hurting anyone else with her presence.

But then, a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

"Hey."

Juno startled and her thoughts scattered when she turned to see Yves standing beside her, worry clear in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it," he said gently. "It's just a cake, right? Accidents happen. The party is for fun, not–"

"Yves, please."

Her voice broke as she interrupted him, quieter than she intended. The words hit harder than she expected, but they came out unfiltered.

He blinked, taken by surprise. "What?"

Juno wrapped her arms around herself, shaking slightly. "You heard what she said," she murmured, looking down at the ground. "She didn't even want me there. I shouldn't have come, this was a mistake."

Yves's frown deepened and he stepped closer. "No. That's not true," he insisted. "Don't listen to her."

Juno let out a hollow laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. "Why are you trying to fix this?" She didn't look at him. "I didn't ask for your help. I'd rather you join the rest and make fun of me. It's easier that way."

Yves shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to handle her rawness. "Okay, well... uh..." He hesitated, clearly searching for the right words. "I mean, everyone makes mistakes, right? It's not like anyone's going to remember the cake in a week. Besides, who cares what they think?"

"That's the problem, Yves. You don't understand. They care. They always care." She shook her head and her voice faded as her chest tightened. "And I care too much about what they think. But I shouldn't. I shouldn't have come at all."

Yves's expression softened, but his attempts to comfort were clearly not working. He gently put a hand on her arm. "Hey, come on. I get it, it's a shitty feeling, I know. But it's just one stupid moment, it doesn't define who you are."

Juno pulled away from him. "No," she said sharply. "Don't try to fix this. You can't. You don't even know me."

She turned around quickly, picking up her pace as she walked away.

Yves didn't move immediately, but she could hear him calling her name. "Juno, wait. Hey– just– okay, I know you're mad but can you please just–"

She kept walking, picking up her pace despite the pain in her legs. There was something about him, about the way he tried to help, to fix things, even when he clearly had no idea how to do it, that made her want to tear her hair out in frustration. He didn't understand, he couldn't. She had never been the type of person who could solve her problems with a few words of comfort or a well-intentioned hand on the shoulder. And he wasn't the type of man who would have experienced being a social outcast.

She could feel him following her, but she didn't want to turn around. She was fine alone, she had been before.

But then, his voice came softer, almost helpless: "I really suck at this, don't I?"

Juno's heart skipped and, against her will, she slowed down slightly.

They walked through the streets, the echoes of the party faded, replaced by the distant sounds of cars, laughter from strangers passing by, and occasional gusts of cold wind.

Finally, they reached the city's iconic clock tower. It rose above them, its massive hands marking time, counting seconds that neither of them could ever reclaim.