The door barely swung open before the school nurse looked up, rising from her chair the second she saw who Torren was carrying.

“Oh dear, set them down here,” she said, gesturing to the cushioned bed in the corner. “Easy now.”

Torren lowered Lucy with infinite gentleness, brushing a bit of dirt from their cheek. Rein hovered at Lucy’s side, practically vibrating with worry.

“W–what’s happening?” Rein asked, voice thin. “They were just breathing weird, and then—then they just—”

“Is Lucy hurt?” Torren cut in sharply, eyes bright with panic.

The nurse lifted a hand, calm in a way that made Rein’s pounding heartbeat feel chaotic in comparison.

“Relax, both of you,” she said softly. “He’s fine. This isn’t new.”

Rein blinked. “What?”

“Severe Neurocardiogenic Syncope,” she explained, checking Lucy’s pulse and shining a light near their eyes.

Torren blinked. “What? What’s that?”

“It’s when your body overloads because your feelings get too big,” she said. “Like a fuse blowing to protect the circuit.” She turned to them. “Lucy has a history of episodes when they feel overwhelmed. Emotional stress is usually the trigger.”

Rein pressed his lips into a thin line. “They never told us.”

Torren muttered under his breath, “Of course they didn’t…” His hand hovered over Lucy’s arm, like he wanted to touch but wasn’t sure if he should.

The nurse continued, “Normally, Lucy takes medication to help control the episodes. They've been taking it himself, so they haven’t been here in a while…” She paused, frowned at her drawer, then sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m out.”

Rein felt the bottom drop out of his chest. “Out?”

“Shipments are late this week,” she said apologetically. “We’ll have to let the episode pass naturally. They’ll wake on their own in a few minutes.” She glanced at the clock and nodded. “Won’t be long now.”

Torren let out a slow, shaking breath. “So this is entirely normal?”

The nurse gave him a small smile and gestured to Lucy. “You’ll be surprised by the things that are ‘entirely normal’ for that kid. They’ll be fine.” Her fondness was clear—like a mother speaking of her child—and Torren felt some tension ease from his shoulders.

She turned to Rein, tilting her head as if just realizing he was there. “At least it’s not you. How are you feeling, dear?”

Rein’s cheeks flushed red. He wanted to melt into the floor. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine.”

The nurse didn’t look convinced but waved him toward a seat beside Lucy’s bed.

“Sit. You look pale,” she said, then addressed both of them. “Fainting spells like these are more common than you think for someone with Lucy’s condition, but they’re still very frightening.”

Rein quickly walked to the chair and sat down. Torren remained standing, hovering beside Lucy, ignoring the empty chair nearby.

“You two staying right there is probably the best comfort Lucy could have,” the nurse said. “So I’m not going to push you to go to class. But please, try not to worry. They’ll be fine.”

Rein nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She left,heading into a room that led to her office or storage. Rein didn’t know.

He turned to Torren. Torren was pacing, eyes full of worry, restless energy radiating off him. “She said they’re going to be fine,” Rein said softly.

Torren didn’t hear him. He kept pacing—up and down, up and down, back and forth—like he was trying to shake away his fear.

“Torren,” Rein said gently, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Torren froze and turned toward him.

“Can you… just sit? Your pacing… it’s making me worry too,” Rein admitted.

Torren exhaled, a little reluctantly, and sank into the chair beside Lucy’s bed. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Rein shook his head. “It’s okay. I’m worried too,” 

Torren’s gaze softened, and Rein felt his chest tighten. He looked away quickly, caught in the intensity of those eyes. 

“Come here,” Torren said. 

Rein blinked, unsure. “What?”

Torren rolled his eyes with a small, fond smile. “Come here,” he said again, tilting his head to the space beside him. “Sit. I want you beside me.”

The sincerity in his voice left no room for hesitation. Rein’s heart thumped as he moved his chair closer, sliding it beside Torren’s, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Better?” Rein asked softly, trying to keep his voice steady.

Without a word, Torren reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together, then gently took Lucy’s other hand too. The simple contact was grounding, a silent reassurance. Torren gave a small, content nod.

“Yeah,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Much better.”

Torren squeezed his hand and Rein felt like his heart was actually going to burst out of his chest. He couldn't take his eyes off Torren though Torren kept his eyes on Lucy. 

This was okay right? They're friends and friends hold hands. There's nothing wrong about that. They're friends. 

Rein swallowed. Torren looked composed and calm, only the worry for Lucy showed on his face and somehow that made things worse. 

Because was it just him? Was it just him that being close to these two felt like one of the best moments of his live (second only to his time with Damian. Damian will always be the number one in his life). 

A soft sound interrupted his spiraling thoughts. 

Lucy made a sound.

A tiny, squeaky gasp. 

Lucy didn’t wake gently. 

It was sudden, like a computer rebooting. His fingers twitched first, then his nose scrunched, then his lashes fluttered open. He blinked once. Twice. His eyes unfocused on the ceiling.

And then, very slowly, he turned his head.

Rein sat up straighter. Torren froze. Then Lucy squeezed his hand and Torren released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. 

Then suddenly, Lucy’s face went pink. Then red. Then scarlet.

He slapped both hands over his face and squealed into them.

"What? What's wrong?" Torren said letting go of Rein's hand. 

Lucy peeked through his fingers at them. They made the same squeaky noise again and curled into the fetal position.

Rein shot to his feet, so did Torren. “Lucy! Lucy! Hey! What's wrong? Talk to us!”

Lucy peeked at Rein.

“And please, breathe.” Rein demonstrated dramatically. “In. Out. Good. Now slowly, okay? We are not doing a second faint. I don’t have the emotional stamina.”

Lucy, still red to the tips of his ears, lowered his hands a little and whispered, “I’m… I’m so sorry…”

Rein softened immediately. “Lucy, you didn’t do anything wrong. The nurse explained everything to us.”

Lucy nodded, swallowing thickly.

But his next words were heartbreakingly small:

“This never happens. I always take my meds. I swear I—this is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” Rein says gently, resting a hand on their shoulder.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” Lucy mutters into their palms.

Torren finally found his voice again, quiet and sincere. “Hey. Don’t say that like it’s something shameful. You didn’t do anything wrong. And we were scared for you. That’s all that matters.”

Lucy’s eyes softened and Rein visibly relaxed, sitting back down on his chair. 

But Torren remained standing.

“How long has it been going on?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. His voice was too calm to be truly calm.

Lucy frowned, letting their hands drop fully from their face. “Well, I got diagnosed when I was ten, but the first time I actually passed out was when I was nine and—”

“Lucy.” Torren cut them off, stern and sharp. “You know that’s not what I’m asking about.”

Rein frowned in confusion, and Lucy mirrored it, their eyes darting up in uncertainty.

Torren exhaled through his nose, frustration and fear tangled in the sound. “You were alone in there. If we hadn’t come when we did… only the gods know what would’ve happened.”

And suddenly Rein remembered.

The scene they had walked in on earlier.

Lucy on their knees on the floor.

Those three idiots hovering over him, laughing.

Mocking.

Rein’s stomach twisted.

He looked at Lucy—Lucy who no longer dared meet Torren’s eyes, instead staring down at their own fingers as they picked at the loose threads of his wool trousers.

“Since… middle school, I guess,” Lucy said with a shrug so casual it felt like a slap. As if the truth didn’t land like a blade in both Rein’s and Torren’s chest.

“It’s really easy to pick on the weird gender fluid kid who faints because of big emotions.”

They swallowed and pressed a palm to their chest, like they could quiet the ache beneath it.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you guys. You two are… you’re the first people who actually seem to like me for…” Their voice wavered, softer than a breath. “For me.”

Torren sighed long and hard. Then he sat down.

 

"Lucy you are....." He swallowed, like the words were stuck in his throat. "You are...perfect."

Lucy’s fingers froze on their trouser threads, and their gaze flicked up, uncertain. 

"You are," Torren insisted. 

Rein shifted beside them, hand hovering in indecision before he settled it over Lucy’s. Gentle pressure, grounding. “I think I speak for the both of us when I say we… we like you. All of you,” he said, his voice steady despite the heat in his chest. “The person who faints. The person who feels everything too much. The real you. That’s who we like. We really don't care if you faint, remember when I fainted. Torren said he finds it a charming."

Torren beamed. “That’s right. I do.”

And for the first time in a while, Lucy laughed—loud, bright, and full of life. Rein couldn’t help but smile at the sound. Then Lucy suddenly sat up and practically launched themselves at Torren.

Torren made a startled noise deep in his throat, but he caught them instinctively. Half of Lucy’s body ended up sprawled across Torren while the rest still hung over the bed. They squealed and wrapped their arms around him.

“Missed you!”

Torren barked out a laugh, hugging them close. “Missed you too.”

Lucy then shifted their weight so the rest of their body fell onto Rein as well, completing an exaggerated sandwich of limbs.

“And I also missed you,” they declared dramatically.

Rein snorted. “We saw each other yesterday.”

“But that was sooo long ago!” Lucy whined, as if offended by the mere concept of time. Rein rolled his eyes, but Torren only watched with a fond little smile tugging at his lips. Lucy caught the look and beamed up at him.

“It was a Lucian day yesterday—it was lots of fun! Rein got to meet allll my plants!”

Torren arched a brow at Rein.

Rein shrugged, trying—and failing—to hide the faint smile. “It was fun.”

That was all the permission Lucy needed. They immediately launched into a fast-paced, excited ramble about their plants: which ones had sprouted, which ones were dramatic, which ones were “divas,” which ones needed constant attention. Rein laughed; Torren listened with a quiet, aching warmth blooming in his chest.

He had missed this.

Missed them.

Their voice, their energy, the way they lit up a room without even trying.

Even though he was gone for just a day, it felt like he was gone for centuries, lightyears away from them. 

Torren let the soft smile tug fully at his lips this time. Being back with them—both of them—felt like breathing again. Even when he felt the empty space where one last person should be in the depth of his bones. He still smiled. 

One day, he thought, one day we’ll all be together, complete.