Dylan spent the night away from the hotel, imagining different scenarios that could secure his future for comfortable seclusion without a Soulmate. There were no situations he preferred.

He returned to his room at around six that morning to gather his things and head downstairs for breakfast. Dylan anticipated Bryce to be asleep, praying that the man’s yellow Glow, or his own green one, wouldn’t wake him.

Two metres away from the room’s door, Dylan’s Glow appeared, drowning him in longing and forcing him to note the absence of anxiety he’d grown accustomed to. He hissed at it.

Slipping off his shoes outside, he carefully pressed the door open and held his breath. It creaked open.

Bryce appeared asleep, his Glow echoing his heartbeat, the double cadence lighting the room in flashing yellow light. He slept on top of the duvet, clothes still on, shoes cast to the floor. The only significant differences about his appearance were his disheveled brown hair and the line of drool starting at the edge of his mouth. The room hadn’t changed, either – the pub food sat on the floor between the double beds, Dylan’s Revels wrapper on the desk, and his clothes strewn all over the place.

Dylan sighed in relief that two layers of Glow-Inhibiting cloth obstructed his own Glow. He contemplated, as he folded up his clothes and packed his things, changing out of them for something fresher.

Bryce stirred to roll over, but never woke up.

At the door, Dylan eyed the darkened bathroom longingly, his hands twisting against the handle of his suitcase. His mind laid out the consequences if he decided to wash up – Bryce could wake up. He could come in while Dylan was showering. He could try to talk about what happened.

But no sound made – the zipper closing the suitcase, the sounds of the neighbours waking up, even a maid shouting in the hall outside – had woken Bryce yet.

There was a lock on the bathroom door, too. And Dylan knew he could be in and out in under five minutes.

He was quick and strategic in his planning. He kept the pressure low, where the water moving through the pipes couldn’t create a low rumble in the wall. A towel and his toothbrush, along with toothpaste, sat around the sink. A spare change of clothes sat on the closed toilet’s lid cover. Shoes and socks placed on top of the toilet’s tank.

He kept the remainder of his things outside. Dylan locked the door and began his day right.

One wall away, about a minute after the bathroom door locked, Bryce snorted and opened his crust-ridden brown eyes, groaning from the uncomfortable position he was sleeping in. He rolled onto his back and gathered the energy to rub away the crap from his vision, his muscles straining to do so.

He first noticed that he hadn’t closed the curtains the night before, light flooding the room and blinding him. Bryce turned his head and saw the still-empty bed; he sighed, having hoped Dylan would’ve come back so they could at least talk about what had happened.

That light, fluttery feeling in his chest was what finally woke him up when his brain processed his Glow Feeling. It smacked into him like a runaway train. Bryce’s Glow was reflected into the television screen directly across from him, forcing him to look away. Scratching his chest like he had hoped to peel it away, the gravity of the situation suddenly dawned on him.

In a sense, Bryce was right about his confrontation with Dylan last night. He knew he would suffer. He just didn’t expect it to be like this.

“D-Dylan?” he whispered, voice cracking. Bryce slid his legs off the bed and moved towards the door to the room. He opened enough to see a maid at the far end of the hall pushing the hotel’s cleaning cart. Sighing, Bryce closed the door and noticed Dylan’s belongings stacked against the wall. ‘Weren’t they…by the bed…over there?’ he thought, pointing to the vacant space by the wall.

It was this moment when his brain started processing what had happened. ‘Oh, fuck, he’s my Soulmate,’ Bryce brooded, being washed over in a stunning sense of disappointment and anxiety, ignoring the euphoria blooming in his chest. ‘That fucking ‘False Alarm’er is my Soulmate,’ he thought. Even Bryce was taken aback by his own words.

He returned to his bed and looped those words in his head over and over before his mind tried to spin it into a positive light. ‘Maybe we can work things out,’ Bryce pondered for a moment, the hesitation beginning to slip away. ‘But am I really ready for this again?’ Bryce’s thoughts froze at the question; his response was a tentative ‘Yes’. “At least we don’t completely hate each other,” he chuckled to himself. But his fingers twitched and twisted against the edge of the bed, ruffling the sheets. ‘Right?’

A minute later, hearing the shower stop, Bryce froze and watched Dylan exit the bathroom. The two made eye contact. The colour ran from their faces, and Dylan fumbled with his belongings as he rushed out the door, shutting it with a hard slam.

Bryce wanted to shout for him to wait, but the words lodged in his throat. He wanted to chase after Dylan, but his muscles refused to move. Instead, Bryce rolled over onto his side and thought very carefully about what to do next.

Dylan strolled into the restaurant a few minutes later as they were setting up their breakfast buffet, tripping on a vacuum’s cord before taking a seat as close to the food as he could. When the buffet opened, he ate some jam and toast before moving to the far side of the restaurant, tucking himself away in a corner so Bryce could come down and not draw attention to either of them.

He hadn’t bothered to tell Bryce he could come down.

Amber, Travis, and Chris came down at about half eight and were collectively confused about Dylan’s behaviour. They were more concerned that Bryce was going to miss breakfast.

“He’s never missed free food,” Amber noted, looking back towards the restaurant’s glass-encased entry.

Dylan munched on a plain piece of toast, everyone not believing that he had already eaten; his stomach felt ready to burst. “I-I’m sure he’ll come down eventually,” he whispered, watching the same entrance with nervous energy. The lobby just beyond was populated with only a handful of people.

Chris ran his hands over his face and pushed back his bangs; his face was pale and rings hung under his eyes. He avoided looking at the breakfast foods in front of him. Chris’s ragged breath suggested a feeling of nausea in his stomach. “Never again,” he murmured under his breath, throwing back another glass of water. “Why do I keep agreeing to go out with you guys?”

Travis watched Chris stand to retrieve another glass before he turned back to Amber and Dylan, smiling cheekily. “He does a pretty good rendition of ‘Dream On’ when he’s drunk,” he told them. “He got most of the pub to sing, too.”

Amber snorted before sticking a fork with eggs into her mouth. “How are you not hung over, Travis? You threw up enough gunk on the bed for three square meals.”

He shrugged. Taking a sip of his coffee, Travis admitted, “I have a high tolerance, or at least that’s what my mum says.” He then picked up the croissant on his plate and began munching on it.

“Your mum’s a wino,” Amber replied, slipping the last of her eggs into her mouth. Travis elbowed her in the side.

Chris returned with two glasses of water in his hands, both glasses shaking. He groaned and brought one of the glasses to his lips. “Remind me to never go drinking with you or Bryce again,” Chris mumbled under his breath, downing half the glass before struggling to eat. “Or anyone. Ever again.” Chris’s white Glow suddenly shone through his shirt, and he glanced around.

“Where is Bryce?” Travis asked, glancing back towards the lobby. “He’s gonna miss breakfast.”

“I have a question,” Amber started, swallowing the flapjacks and syrup in her mouth. “Why were you – ” She pointed to Travis. “ – in my room last night?”

Travis shrugged. “I might have a tolerance, but I remember shit. Just ‘Dream On,’ and then that proclamation of love – ”

Chris jabbed him in the side. “Yes, we all don’t remember things,” he quickly retorted.

“Amazing,” Amber noted, astonished. “How do I miss all the fun?” She then picked up her orange juice, turned to Dylan, and asked, “How was your night in?”

Dylan froze, his breath lodged in his lungs as he felt, as if for the first time, longing bloom through his chest; his Glow confined to his two Glow-Inhibitor shirts. Hastily, he got up and spluttered, “I need the toilet.”

Chris and Amber watched Dylan cross the restaurant before returning to their meals. “Does he get like that when he sleeps?” Amber whispered, taking a sip of her drink.

Chris shrugged. “I don’t know. He sleeps so irregularly as it is…” He gestured to Dylan’s spot at the table. “…so seeing that is a rare sight.”

“Maybe he slept well, yeah?” Travis asked.

“H-hi, guys,” Bryce announced, sitting down swiftly in the vacant spot next to Dylan, his plate piled haphazardly with two Belgian waffles, bacon, two eggs, roasted tomatoes, two pieces of plain toast, and corned beef hash. “What’s going on? Are we good?” He then began shoveling food into his mouth.

Amber withdrew her hands in surprise. Potentially disgust, as well. “Okay, this is…probably the weirdest I’ve ever seen you.”

“Whaaaaaaaat?” Bryce asked, spraying specks of food across the table. “I’m acting totally normal. Also, where’s Dylan?”

Chris’s eyes darted around the room. “Why?”

“No reason,” he replied, cramming an entire piece of toast into his mouth. Bryce continued speaking, but it was completely garbled. His eyes were moving constantly.

“Did you guys get into another fight or something?” asked Travis.

Amber stood. “I swear to God, I will kick your ass here and now if you made fun of his Glow again, Houghton.”

Bryce’s eyes widened. He swallowed whatever mush was still in his mouth and said, “N-no! That – we didn’t fight or anything!” But his eyes caught something from across the room, and he dove under the table. “I dropped my fork!”

Travis leaned over. Bryce’s fork was untouched, having grabbed Dylan’s by accident. “Mate, your fork is – ”

Dylan swooped into view and grabbed his bag. A nervous, crooked smiled adorning his face, he blurted, “You know, it’s such a nice day that I think I’ll meet you guys at the station, okay? Bye.”

Chris stood, his eyes following Dylan. “But our train isn’t for another hour and a half.”

Dylan turned but stumbled into an empty table, its cutlery rattling. “Who cares? It’s a nice day.”

“It’s supposed to rain later.”

“It’s a nice day, okay, BYE.” And Dylan promptly left the restaurant and the hotel, bystanders pausing to watch the flustered man hurry up the road and towards the station.

Bryce suddenly slammed his head on the underside of the table, which overturned Chris’s glass of water and Amber’s orange juice, Travis’ coffee rippled over the edges of his mug, the crockery and silverware shaking. “Fuck!” he shouted, kneeling on the floor and rubbing the back of his head. Seeing the mess he created, Bryce stood, further spilling Travis’ coffee and spreading Chris and Amber’s drinks over the tabletop. “I’ll go get napkins,” he whispered, departing and leaving Amber, Chris, and Travis in disbelief.

After a moment, Amber drew in air. “Okay…I…does anyone – ”

“No,” the other two replied, shaking their heads in unison.