Chapter 86: Forgiven, Always
Celestia had been in a good mood since yesterday.
Actually, good mood wasn’t the right way to put it—she’d been glowing.
All morning, she’d been humming under her breath as she padded around the house barefoot, her hair still a little messy from sleep but her grin unstoppable. And sitting on the couch in the living room like an honored guest was the ridiculous, oversized bear I’d won her at the amusement park.
She’d made a whole scene about it last night. Declared she was going to name him Kai Junior. Then had looked me straight in the eye and added, "So now I’ll have two Kais. My boyfriend Kai, and my soft one."
I was apparently "boyfriend Kai." The bear was "soft one."
Fantastic.
I tried not to look at it now, sitting slouched in my desk chair with a stack of notes and textbooks in front of me. I had a test tomorrow—we both did—but the way Val was curled up on the floor beside the bed with her highlighters and her notebook, I wasn’t sure if she was really studying or just... doodling.
Because every two minutes, without fail, I caught her sneaking glances at me.
Not subtle glances either. Long, lingering stares that burned holes in the side of my face until I couldn’t take it anymore.
Finally, I set my pen down. "Alright, what is it?"
She blinked, caught red-handed. Her highlighter froze in the air like she’d been planning a prison break and I just turned on the floodlights.
"What?" she asked, way too innocently.
"You keep looking at me like I’m about to sprout a second head," I muttered. "If you want something, just say it. Get it over with."
Her cheeks went pink. She pressed her lips together, then whispered, almost shyly— "I’m horny."
I choked. "Val—"
She looked away immediately, her hair falling to shield her face, the picture of bashful. If I didn’t already know her, I might’ve believed it was genuine. But I did know her. And this was one of her many, many tactics.
Still, I couldn’t lie—her soft little confession made something tighten in my chest.
I dragged a hand down my face. "We’re starting tests tomorrow, Val."
"I know," she said softly.
"Then—"
"Please?" she cut in quickly, looking back up at me with those big, pleading eyes that could probably end wars if she wanted them to.
I groaned. "You know I’ll be too tired to keep studying after."
"You don’t have to do anything," she said in a rush, her cheeks heating up again. "You can just... sit there and keep reading. I’ll do everything else myself."
I stared at her. "...That’s not how studying works."
She pouted, glaring down at her notebook like it was personally responsible for her misery. "Fine."
And just like that, she went quiet. She actually lowered her head and started scribbling in her notebook again, shoulders hunched, the picture of concentration.
But the silence wasn’t right. It wasn’t her usual loud, chaotic presence. It was subdued, heavy. Like she was holding herself back.
I lasted five minutes before caving.
"...You’re not upset, right?" I asked carefully.
"No," she murmured without looking at me. Her voice was so soft I almost missed it. "I’ll manage."
God.
She didn’t mean it as a weapon, but it hit like one anyway.
I pushed my chair back and groaned under my breath. "One round."
Her head snapped up instantly, her whole face lighting like I’d just promised her the moon. "Really?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "One round. That’s it."
She practically bounced where she sat, grinning so wide it hurt to look at. "You’re the best boyfriend in the entire world, you know that?"
It’s not fair.
I leaned back in my chair, watching her beam like I’d just handed her the universe. I finally thought I had the upper hand over her, but no. Of course not. I thought I was catching up—learning how to keep pace with her, maybe even win sometimes. But then I go and find out she actually... needs me more than she lets on. And now? Now I can’t even pretend I’m the one in control.
The thought pressed against my chest, heavy, leaving me a little breathless.
Out loud, I just huffed and said, "You’re unbelievable, you know that?"
She tilted her head, eyes glinting with mischief. "Unbelievable in a good way?"
I raised a brow. "Still deciding."
Her grin softened, and she reached across the desk to tug at my sleeve until I looked at her. "You’re not supposed to decide anything, Kai. You’re just supposed to be mine."
I exhaled slowly, my gaze lingering on her. "Yeah," I admitted. "That sounds about right."
She leaned closer, whispering, "And you like it."
And damn it—I did.
It should’ve ended there. One round. Back to studying. But of course with Val, nothing was ever that simple.
---
By the time it was over, I could barely feel my legs. My head sank into the pillow, body humming with exhaustion, and all I wanted—truly, all I wanted—was to close my eyes and stay there until Monday morning, test or not.
But Val had other plans.
"Up," she said, tugging at my arm.
I groaned. "No. Dead."
"You’re not dead. You’re just tired." She yanked harder, and somehow, I found myself dragged to the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, after a shower I hadn’t even wanted, I was back on the bed with damp hair and heavier eyelids, watching her bounce lightly across the room like she hadn’t just wrecked me. She opened the fridge, rummaged, and came back with a small yogurt cup and a spoon.
Dropping onto the bed, she tucked her legs beneath her, popped the lid, and then looked at me with that sharp, knowing glint in her eyes.
"So," she began, voice too sweet, "since I know you’re already tired and I’m already feeling a teeny, tiny bit guilty..."
I raised a brow. "A teeny, tiny bit?"
She ignored me. "This is what I’m going to do. I’ll ask you the questions, and you’ll answer."
I sat up a little straighter. "Nope. Not happening."
Her spoon paused mid-air. "Excuse me?"
"I’m not studying like that." I flopped back down dramatically. "I can barely keep my eyes open, Val. I’ll do it tomorrow morning."
She stabbed her spoon into the yogurt like it had personally offended her. "No, Kai. Tomorrow morning, you’ll panic because you didn’t prepare enough, and you’ll blame me."
"I won’t."
"You will." She took a slow bite, then pointed the spoon at me like a weapon. "And even if you don’t, it’ll still be my fault. So please. Just this once. For me."
I rolled my head to the side, meeting her eyes. She wasn’t pouting. Not really. There was something too earnest in her face for that.
"Val..."
Her gaze flicked away, like she was embarrassed, then back at me. "If you do it then I won’t ask for sex for..." She tapped the spoon against her lip, pretending to think. "...a while."
I narrowed my eyes. "How long is a while?"
She smirked faintly. "Dunno. Until I get horny again."
"Val."
She laughed, finally breaking the tension in her voice, and shook her head. "Okay, okay, fine. But seriously—let’s study. I promise I’ll be serious this time."
I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "I don’t believe you."
"Believe me," she sing-songed.
"You say that right before you trick me."
She grinned. "Maybe. But you’ll thank me tomorrow."
I peeked at her through my fingers. "You’re exhausting."
> "And?"
"And..." I sighed, dropping my hands, "...fine. But if I fail, I’m haunting you."
She leaned over, kissed my cheek quickly, and whispered, "Worth it."
Somehow, despite my better judgment, I sat up. She shoved the yogurt aside, pulled out her notes, and perched beside me, already flipping to the right page.
"You start," she said. "I’ll quiz you."
And she did.
To my surprise, she was actually serious. Her voice was steady, no dramatics, no fake accents or trick questions. Just her, reading quietly, checking if I remembered the formulas and theories, nodding thoughtfully when I got it right.
Halfway through, though, I caught her staring.
I frowned. "What?"
Her lips pressed together, her shoulders stiff. "I’m sorry."
The way she said it—it wasn’t flirty, it wasn’t playful. It was soft. Guilty. Like the word itself hurt her.
My chest tightened.
"What are you sorry for?" I asked quietly.
"For making you tired. For distracting you when you should’ve been studying. For..." She trailed off, looking down at the open notebook in her lap. "For being me, I guess. I just—I know I make things harder sometimes."
I stared at her, stunned.
"Hey." I shifted closer, catching her hand. "Don’t do that."
She blinked. "Do what?"
"Don’t make it sound like being you is something to apologize for."
Her throat bobbed, eyes shimmering just slightly.
I squeezed her hand. "Forgiven. Whatever it is you think you did wrong—already forgiven."
A small, shaky smile tugged at her lips. "...You’re too soft on me."
"Someone has to be."
She sniffed, shook her head quickly like she didn’t want to stay in that space too long, and went back to her notes. "Okay, next question."
Her voice was steadier, lighter, but the guilt hadn’t completely left her eyes. I could still feel it, pressing between us.
And as she read the next line, I thought to myself—If this is what she looks like when she feels guilty, when she thinks she’s too much... then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving she isn’t. She’ll never have to wonder if being herself is a problem. Not with me.
And... I think that’s the only promise I’ve ever wanted to keep.
---
To be continued...