Tristan paced back and forth across the temple grounds, his face twisted in panic. Every few steps, he'd stop, groan, and grab his head, fingers digging through his already messy hair.
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"I can't believe it," he muttered to himself, his mind racing as fast as his heart. "I can't believe I messed up so bad."
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His thoughts kept replaying the night before—how he'd tried to tell Loraura how he felt, only for everything to spiral out of control. It wasn't exactly the romantic confession he had imagined. Instead of soft words under the stars, he'd passed out from stress, and Loraura had to carry him to bed like he was some kind of helpless fool.
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"What must she think of all this?" he wondered, cringing at the memory of her worried face, the way her hands had glowed with energy trying to help him. "I'm such an idiot!"
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Tristan swung his fist in frustration, striking a wooden post nearby. With a loud crack, the post snapped in half and fell to the ground. He stared at it, frozen in place for a moment, wide-eyed. "Oh no..."
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The sound of footsteps came from within the temple. Someone was heading his way.
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"Oh shit..." Tristan's heart leaped into his throat. He spun around, eyes darting to the open gate. Without another thought, he bolted toward it, running as fast as his legs would carry him.
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Inside, Loraura slid open the door, a serene smile on her face as she held a tray. "Tristan, breakfast is ready," she called out, her voice gentle.
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But instead of the familiar sight of Tristan pacing or sitting under the trees, she was met with an empty courtyard. Her brow furrowed, and she stepped out, looking around the temple yard in confusion.
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"Tristan?" she called again, her voice echoing off the quiet walls. "I thought he was out here..." She scanned the area, noticing the broken post. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile returned.
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"Well, it seems breakfast will have to wait," she murmured to herself, though something told her Tristan wasn't far. She turned her gaze toward the open gate and sighed softly, a knowing glint in her eyes.
***
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Tristan stormed down the sidewalk, his head hung low, his thoughts a whirlwind of self-pity and frustration.
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"Dammit... dammit... dammit..." he repeated in his head, each step echoing the feeling of dread that swirled inside him. He couldn't believe how bad last night had gone. Not only had he passed out in front of Loraura, but now he had no idea how to face her. What kind of idiot tells someone they care about them and then faints?
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Lost in his thoughts, Tristan barely noticed the world around him until something yanked him out of his misery—literally.
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An arm wrapped tightly around his neck, pulling him forward with a jolt. "Huh?" Tristan yelped as his face was forced down, his steps stumbling.
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"How ya doin', my rival!" came the overly energetic voice of none other than Dylan, his wide grin practically blinding. Dylan's grip tightened around Tristan's neck, nearly choking him.
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"Rival?" Tristan groaned, trying to wiggle out of Dylan's grip. "Since when are we—?"
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"Top of the morning to ya!" chimed in Whitney, who was standing behind Dylan with a small wave, looking as cheerful as always.
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Tristan blinked, trying to make sense of the ambush. "What the—"
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Whitney, always the one with an eye for detail, scanned the area with an excited look. "And where is the lovely Loraura?" he asked, practically bouncing on his heels. His voice was full of enthusiasm, the kind that was painfully irritating when you were in a bad mood.
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Tristan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Whitney looked back at him—and froze. His expression shifted from excitement to concern in an instant.
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"Huh?" Whitney asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned in closer to Tristan's face. "What's up with you?"
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Dylan, who was still clinging to Tristan's neck, tilted his head, clearly just now noticing Tristan's red, watery eyes and the look of utter despair on his face.
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"You guys..." Tristan muttered, trying to regain some composure but failing miserably. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, taking a shaky breath. "I need your help."
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Both Dylan and Whitney stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, their usual goofiness replaced with a rare look of genuine confusion.
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"You what?" Dylan finally asked, loosening his grip around Tristan's neck. "You... crying, dude?"
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Whitney blinked a few times, still processing what was happening. "Wait... is this serious? Like, actual serious? No jokes?"
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Tristan let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, it's serious," he admitted, his voice a mix of frustration and defeat. "I really screwed up with Loraura."
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Tristan rubbed the back of his neck, taking a deep breath before spilling the details of his disastrous night with Loraura to Whitney and Dylan. He left out the magical bits, of course—no need to explain how Loraura used some kind of power to calm him down, or how he'd passed out like a fool. Instead, he focused on the basics: his embarrassing attempt to confess his feelings, how awkward he'd been, and the fact that he barely managed to get the words out before everything went south.
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"So yeah," Tristan finished, looking down at the sidewalk, kicking a small pebble with his foot. "It was bad. Really bad."
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Whitney and Dylan both stared at him for a moment, exchanging a glance. Whitney scratched the back of his head, his usual cheerful demeanor slightly deflated.
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"Well, uh..." Whitney finally said, his voice unsure. "I don't really know how to help with that, man. I mean... maybe you should just talk to Loraura? See what she's thinking?"
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Tristan let out a soft groan. "I'm not sure if that'll help..."
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Dylan, however, was much more upbeat. "Psh, forget about all that!" he said, clapping Tristan on the back. "You'll feel better after another one of our competitions!" His voice was filled with excitement, and he flashed Tristan a grin. "We'll race down to the lake—first one there gets bragging rights!"
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Tristan sighed, a small, resigned smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. As much as he appreciated their support, these two weren't exactly the best when it came to emotional advice. "Yeah... thanks, guys. But I think I'll pass this time." He straightened his posture, already thinking about how to escape the conversation. "I should probably get going. I've got a lot on my mind."
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Whitney shrugged, looking sympathetic, while Dylan let out a dramatic groan of disappointment. "Suit yourself, but you're missing out, man!"
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With a quick wave, Tristan said his goodbyes and continued down the sidewalk. As he walked, he tried to clear his head, but his thoughts kept circling back to last night—and how much of a mess he'd made. "What am I supposed to say to her now?" he wondered, sighing under his breath.
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Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice the woman up ahead. She was standing a few feet away, looking around as if she were lost. Her long, silver hair caught the sunlight, contrasting with her brown skin. She wore a flowing purple dress, and the way she glanced around seemed hesitant, almost weary.
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Tristan blinked, caught off guard when she locked eyes with him and started walking his way. Her smile was soft but tired, and he couldn't help but feel a bit of curiosity as she approached.
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"Hello, good sir..." she said in a gentle tone, her voice slightly breathless. "Do you think you can help me?"
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Tristan stood there, confused for a second. "Huh?" was all he managed to say.
***
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Author notes: Please support my work on Patreon for early access to new chapters. https://patreon.com/DarkMatteromniverse107Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqxNpPrk7Sk
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