The room was still when Jet stepped inside. The dry air smelled faintly of ash and old cloth, and the sunlight poured through the broken ceiling in narrow, dusty beams. Her sharp eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light, scanning the small, cluttered space until they found Aveline.
The girl was sitting curled up on the mattress, her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them. She wasn't crying, not exactly—but there was a heaviness around her, like the quiet before a storm.
Jet closed the door behind her softly, the creak barely audible. She stood there for a moment before speaking, her voice low and calm.
"…I'm sorry, Aveline. For earlier. I shouldn't have asked that."
Aveline didn't respond immediately. She sniffled once, wiped her nose against her sleeve, and stayed silent.
Jet stepped a little closer but made no move to sit.
"I thought… maybe instead, we could talk about something else," she said gently. "What's your favorite color?"
Aveline blinked, surprised. She looked up at Jet cautiously, the weight in her small eyes still very much present. Her lips parted slightly, then closed again. It took her a long moment to answer.
"…Black."
Jet raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Black?"
"Yeah," Aveline said quietly, finally lowering her knees and resting her chin on them. "The same as Sunny's hair. And his eyes."
Jet couldn't help the soft smile that bloomed across her face.
"Good choice," she said. "Mine's black and blue, too."
Aveline tilted her head. "Why?"
Jet chuckled. "My hair. My eyes. I suppose I got attached."
"…Me too," Aveline murmured.
There was a small pause before she added, "I also like… playing dice. Sunny carved them out of stones a while ago. We roll them and make dumb bets."
Jet tilted her head, intrigued. "Oh? And what else do you like?"
Aveline grew a little livelier. "I like… daydreaming. With Sunny. About what we're gonna do when we get rich."
Jet's smile widened slightly. "And what do you two talk about?"
Aveline looked away shyly, her voice lowering.
"…I don't really know. I don't have many dreams of my own. But Sunny says he wants to open a restaurant. Or a café. Something where he can feed people and just… be happy."
Jet blinked in surprise, then laughed softly. "That sounds very unlike the Sunny I've come to know."
Aveline giggled. "He only said that after I once complained that we never get to eat anything tasty. And then the next day, he brought me some weird stew and said it was his 'first special recipe.' It was horrible."
She laughed, the sound small but real. Her voice gained more strength as she rambled on.
"He only cooks something good once in a while. But it's always different. He keeps changing his mind. Sometimes he says he wants to start a clan. Other times he says he wants to go to the moon. One time he told me about this thing called a 'horror house' in the city and promised he'd take me. Then he found a picture of a place called the grasslands and swore it was even better than anything else."
Jet listened, quiet and steady.
"…I once told him I wanted to try ice cream. Not that either of us really knew what it tasted like. But he managed to get some. Hid it in that corner there," Aveline said, pointing. "But we didn't know you had to eat it fast. Next morning it was just a puddle. He said, 'Well, that's why it's called ice cream.'"
Jet chuckled, watching the girl's face light up. There was something beautiful in the way she spoke—half joy, half wonder. A kind of childlike reverence reserved only for those who had very little to begin with.
"And then once he did this stupid thing you know—"
For a little after that, Aveline continued rambling ,all about Sunny.
"You really like talking about him," Jet interrupted gently, smiling.
Aveline's mouth snapped shut. She froze, her face suddenly crimson as she realized she had been rambling nonstop.
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to—"
Jet waved a hand. "It's alright. Really. I'm glad you told me."
There was a pause. Then, carefully, Jet asked, "Is it fine now? Do you… do you think you could talk a little about your past? If you'd like, of course."
Aveline's voice shrank. She pulled her knees back up again and wrapped her arms tightly around them.
"…I don't remember anything," she whispered. "Some hazy memories… maybe being taken away from somewhere. But I don't really care much about it. The past is the past now, what has happened doesn't concern us anymore, besides..."
She lifted her head and looked Jet straight in the eyes.
"Sunny makes me worry all the time. He's annoying. He gets in trouble, says crazy things… always full of stories."
Then her voice dropped, just above a whisper.
"But Master Jet… is the Dream Realm really dangerous? As the people say?"
Jet took a breath.
"…Yes."
That single word hit like a hammer in the quiet space.
But before the fear could creep in too deep, Jet added quickly, "But don't worry. From the short time I've known him… I'm sure Sunny will find a way back. You of all people should know that, after all."
Aveline didn't answer immediately.
Then, without warning, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her body trembled slightly as she tried to hold them back.
Jet's heart clenched.
"Aveline?" she asked softly, stepping closer.
"I don't want to lose him, Miss," Aveline whispered, voice cracking. "He… he's all I have."
Her voice broke.
"He's everything to me."
Jet didn't hesitate. She knelt down beside the trembling girl and wrapped her arms around her in a quiet, protective embrace.
And in that ruined little room, beneath the broken ceiling and cracked walls, two people stayed like that—holding each other in a silence full of meaning.
The shadows shifted as the sun moved, and far down the road, a boy walked alone toward a pair of forgotten graves.