This is the moment. You're alone with the man of your affections, the blue-haired adventurer who you see in your dreams every night. You had asked him to meet with you in the lounge of the guild's headquarters, that it was a matter that you wanted to discuss with him alone.

Arriving early, you were relieved that nobody was thereーmost members were out doing commissions or at home, whatever else that called for their attention. You sit down on the main couch, a plush cloth couch that you could honestly sink into if you weren't facing a nervewracking situation.

You're pulled from your worries as the leader greets you, his sunny smile and cheerful greeting both blessing you and intensifying the knot of uncertainty in your stomach. "Hey! You said you wanted to talk, right? I got some time now." Altare jumps onto the couch, laying back and looking at you. "So," he looks over your expression. "What's up?"

"Altare, I.. I like you."

You hold your breath, the bubble of anxiety wells into your chest as time stops and you watch the guildmaster's expression.

His smile drops.

"What?"

Altare asks as if bewildered, but the tone of his voice makes it sting more than it should. "I-I likeー" You begin before you're interrupted by the sound of laughter. "You?" Altare's lips are smiling, his expression is surprised. "You? Like me?" He reiterates before laughing again, holding his stomach as if this was the funniest joke you've ever told.

The knot in your stomach is so tight it feels like an endless black hole, one full of despair as you watch him get up after wiping a non-existent tear from the corners of his lovely green eyes. "No, IーI'm serious, Altare!" You feel desperate now, you need to know if he's just misunderstanding, that he's just not getting it. You open your mouth to say your confession again, but Altare reaches out and puts a steady hand on your shoulder.

His hand is rough and the grip he has on you is strongーthe silence of the lounge room is deafening. Altare is so close that it's like an image from your dreams, but the atmosphere isn't the same; it's not lovey-dovey or erotic, it'sー

"Get real."

There's a tightness in your chest and the void of despair in your stomach spits up sand in your throat. It hurts to look a him, your throat feels so parched that it's painful to swallow and you can barely muster a word before Altare walks away.

Ouch.