Having Kris as a friend wasn't usually difficult. The memory of the long afternoons they spent together playing, eating pie, and chatting was both pleasant and bittersweet. The hours slipped through their fingers; neither of them minded seeing each other for eight hours straight, or even longer, every day. They enjoyed each other's company.

Guest couldn't remember when things had changed between them. Nor did they understand why. Their friendship had survived the difficult period following Dess's disappearance, but now the strength of their bond seemed as fragile as a sheet of paper, just about to tear. Of course they saw each other; they saw each other everywhere, and that made it worse. Guest felt how the person they called their best friend was consciously pushing them away. The only thing left of the Kris they knew was that… sweet gaze, but now from a distance. Those red eyes with pupils brimming with a tension neither of them dared to address that looked at them with a maddening longing. It was late at night, and Guest’s room felt unusually empty. The mattress sagged under the weight of their shifting body as they tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep. With the blanket covering their face, they closed their eyes to force themself to sleep, but a strong gust of wind interrupted them. The window slammed shut, and Guest jumped out of bed in fright. An intruder in their room. And then they saw them. Kris stood there, chest rising and falling unevenly, hair disheveled, still dressed in their pajamas, like they had rushed out without thinking. Their bare feet pressed against the cold floor, faint traces of dirt clinging to their skin, as if they had crossed the distance just to be there. They didn’t even bother brushing it off. Their attention was entirely on Guest, as if nothing else in the room existed.