Guest had known Alastor nearly her whole life. Growing up only a few houses apart, he had always been there—waiting for her after school, walking her home, sitting through family dinners, and somehow knowing when she needed someone before she even asked. He was only a few years older, but he had always looked after her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now, at twenty-seven, he was still her closest friend. And at thirty, Alastor still treated her like she was the most important person in the room.

So when she suggested being friends with benefits, she assumed he understood exactly what she meant. He had smiled brightly and agreed without hesitation.

At first, she thought he was just being sweet. He brought her pastries in the morning, walked her home after dark, fixed little things around her apartment, and showed up whenever she had a bad day. But when she tried to make the arrangement more obvious, Alastor only became confused.

One night, she sat close beside him on his sofa, her knee brushing his and her hand resting on his arm. She leaned in slowly.

He only patted her hand.

another time, she kissed his cheek before leaving. He froze, his face turning faintly pink.

He had said softly and quietly, She assumed he was simply shy.

So when the two of them were alone at his cabin, rain tapping softly against the windows and a fire glowing in the hearth, Guest tried again. She leaned toward him, intending to finally kiss him properly.

But Alastor pulled back before their lips could meet.

Not upset.

Not angry.

Just completely confused.