~Prologue~

After my brother's disappearance, everything blurred together. People walked in and out of my life. The dead were left behind, but the living had to move on.

Soon, my dad and I packed our bags and moved into a cheaper apartment. A smaller one. Smaller rooms made everything seem less empty.

After my brother ran away, something inside my dad finally snapped. I reminded him too much of my mother. I was the split copy of his favorite son. Dad began to work overtime. He took extra shifts on his construction job. I barely saw him around; he left before I woke up and returned after I fell asleep. In the rare bouts I saw him at home, he was knocked out, exhausted and tuckered out from the demanding work of the day.

I got the message. He didn't want me around.

We began to avoid each other.

The longer I stayed in the apartment, the more I daydreamed. It was usually about home. Home, a small cabin by the sunflower fields. There was a strange name attached to the place. A strong memory. Tazmily Village... a name that no longer seemed to exist on any of the maps in Onett. It must have faded into obscurity.

Unlike our old beachshore village, our apartment complex was stuck in the heart of downtown Onett. We were lucky to have had a place to stay, but I didn't like the new neighborhood. I didn't like the gray, faded paint drying on the cracked bricks. I didn't like the noisy honking of the streets that kept me up at night. I didn't like the bitter stench of weed that hung over the windows like a cloud.

Worse still was the gang of older kids who skulked around the curbs. They smoked pot and sold shrooms. The Sharks, they called themselves. I noticed the way they towered over me by a head. I noticed the way they eyed me. I was easy prey, and they knew it. They pushed me into dumpsters. They ripped up my homework. They stole my lunch money. Once, after hearing their loud whooping from my room, I'd gotten too afraid to walk alone to school. I stayed home.

That day, the school called my dad over my absence. My dad wasn't happy.

"Go to school," he'd said. Something about his tone left no room for argument.

I walked to school again.

During the long lunch periods, I got into reading. Books quickly became my best friend. Books were quiet companions, opening new doors to worlds to where I could escape. I probably should've put more effort into getting to know my classmates better, but the thought never crossed my mind. Books were enough to keep me company.

Adults underestimated the influence they had over children. With my disheveled appearance and tattered homework, I was the kid in the corner who smelled like weed. I was strange. I was odd. The teacher disliked me. Every time she addressed me, she scrunched up her nose, as if she'd found a nasty, sticky gum stuck to the bottom of her heels.

It didn't take long for some of the other students to take on her example. They started off with small things. Stealing my pencils. Shoving me in the back. When the teacher purposely gave them a blind eye, they realized that it was okay to pick on me. That this was encouraged behavior. A group of them ended up cornering me in the back of the school. They tore apart my favorite book and scribbled insults over its pages.

Bruised and bleeding with a split lip, I'd stumbled into the bathroom. As I patched myself up, one of my classmates had stopped to stare at me. A boy with messy black hair and a gap between his teeth. I looked up, waiting him for him to say something, but he'd turned tail and ran straight into a wall.

Weirdo.

But I began to notice certain things about him. About the boy who face-planted into the bathroom wall.

Wherever Ness went, he talked loudly. He wasn't afraid of being heard. He gave out easy smiles and kind words like they were free. His confident cheer was infectious. People flocked over to him like a magnet.

This didn't bother Ness one bit. He liked people. He thrived on conversation like a lightbulb, brightening up whenever someone talked to him. He laughed with people, but not at people. He could make anyone feel at ease.

Obnoxious and simple minded, Ness was strong like Claus. Brave like Claus.

But he wasn't Claus. He could never outshine the twin brother I'd lost.

Turning to my book, I did my best to ignore him.

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~Chapter Ten~

Like, Like, Love?

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"That will be thirty ninety-two," the cashier says.

Digging into the pocket of my jeans, I press the correct change onto the counter. After counting the money and handing over my receipt, the man at the register waves me off with a recited Have a good day. Responding in kind, I tug the groceries into my drawstring bag and head out.

Most of my cuts have scabbed over. As soon as I returned home after the beating, I pressed a frozen pack of peas against my bruised eye. It helped with the swelling, but to my dismay, did little to prevent me from looking like a panda.

But a bruised eye I can handle. My split lip, on the other hand, is a pain in the neck. If I crack my lips the wrong way, I risk re-opening the cut. It's a shallow, but annoying injury, and I've quickly gotten used to the taste of copper seeping into my mouth.

A white Honda honks by the traffic light. The crosswalk turns green.

I tighten my grip on my bag and try to ignore the straps digging into my bruised shoulder blades. It's not too unbearable. Assuming my dad's doing better, I could probably spare a few sparks once my PSI recharges.

The white Honda honks again. This time, the window in the front seat rolls down. "Lucas?"

I start. The hoodie should've concealed my head. Raising my hands, I try to cover up my face. "I'm not-"

"It is you, isn't it?" Ness's mom asks, and recognizing her voice, I lower my hands in relief. She gestures over the sound of the rumbling engine. "Where are you headed? Get in the car. I'll give you a lift."

"There's no need to-"

"What? I can't hear you! Stay right there, I'm backing up the car." The vehicle purrs closer before shaking to a stop. "Is my son with you?"

I cave in. "Just me, I'm afraid," I admit, ducking into the passenger seat. The low ceiling bumps against my head.

As accommodating as always, Ness's mom turns to face me. Her eyes shine with a welcome warmth. "You got taller!" she exclaims. Her voice turns rueful. "And thinner."

I give a sheepish grin. My own physique isn't something I'm proud of. "Only a little."

"A little? You're a walking toothpick! You ruined all my hard work over break." She frowns in disapproval and turns the car around. "That's it. Young man, we're going to get some meat on those bones. Goodness gracious, just what are they feeding you in the Mansion-"

Ness's mom drowns my feeble protests out. Soon, the bright white fence arches into view. A purple roof glows against the streetlights, shortly followed by a familiar pair of twinkling second story windows.

Ness's house.

Ushering me in like a mother hen, Ness's mom forces me to sit down at the table, and as if expecting me to sneak out of the house (won't lie, it had happened before), throws me her best stern mom look. "Stay," she says, then whirls around and vanishes into the kitchen.

I know better than to disobey. Both mother and son shared the same tenacious, stubborn streak. And after the number of times I've been over at his place, Ness claimed that I was practically her second son.

"You don't argue with my mom. I think that's why she likes you," he'd said cheerfully.

His mom had clipped him on the ear for that remark, saying that she didn't play no favorites, and that he'd best believe it.

I pause. It's been a while since I've thought about Ness. Without a cell phone, any communication we could've had was cut. Not counting that last call a week ago, I haven't heard back from him since. My shoulders sag in relief. Ness must be busy brawling. He must be getting over his feelings for me. Just as I expected.

My fingers curl in absentmindedly of their own accord, seeking a familiar warmth not there.

That's one thing I like about Ness. Ness is a toaster. His hands are surprisingly warm and gentle. I fondly remember the chilly nights we spent huddling together under the sheets of his blanket fortress.

A cold draught brushes against the hairs of my arms, and I shiver. I hate feeling cold all the time. Iron deficiency and low blood pressure cut off my circulation, forcing my fingers and toes to fend for themselves. I was born a sickly child. Thinking back to memories of Claus hugging me to stay in bed during a fever, I grin.

I've never been the healthy twin.

My smile fades. My health is rarely an issue, but it does pose problems as a smasher. I have to train harder to maintain the same footing as everybody else. I can run fast, but I can't run for long. Occasionally, I get dizzy spells and see stars: glowing spots that refused to fade from the corners of my vision.

It doesn't help that Smashers are big, fat targets of hard-hitting criminals. Right after the Subspace Emissary, crime rates peaked across all universes. Other villains took advantage of the chaos to raid Smash City. At one point, Sonic had gone AWOL trying to track down Eggman, and Red left to take care of Team Rocket.

Ness and I had been taken hostage by a group of amateur thugs in Smash City. We were 13 or 14 when the kidnapping happened. They'd targeted the two of us because we were younger fighters. Less experienced. Easier to subdue. We were forcefully drugged and locked into a cellar overnight, and all I remember about the cellar was that it was dark, cramped, and cold.

I was scared. I didn't like being drugged. I didn't like the dense cloud suppressing my mind. I didn't like the uncertainty of knowing what was and wasn't there. The bitter taste of shrooms on my tongue was eerily familiar to the point of discomfort; I hallucinated several times before snapping out of it. Ness had taken longer to come round; whatever they'd given him must've been a sedative instead, because he was out like a light.

Sometime during the night, Ness had woken up. "Yoo ohgay?" he said, sounding sluggish.

I tried to nod, only to realize that Ness couldn't see me. "I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yeah."

I shifted in my ropes. Tied back to back, Ness's shoulderblades rubbed against my own. "What's... what's going to happen to us?"

"I think they're taking us for ransom." Ness's voice dropped to an uncertain waver. "Or maybe they're gonna torture us."

"T-Torture?" I stammered.

"I dunno. They might take away our candy privileges. It's what they do in movies, right?" Sensing my rising panic, Ness clumsily fumbled for my hand. "Cheer up, Lucas! I won't let them hurt you."

My voice cracked from dehydration. "Really?"

I could hear the confident grin in his voice. "'Course I won't. They're gonna have to get through me first."

At the thought of Ness getting hurt, I began to cry.

Ness panicked. The ropes tightened as he struggled to crane his neck over in my direction. "Lucas? Crap, did I say something stupid again? I'm sorry, don't cry-"

"I don't want you getting hurt either..."

"Nobody's gonna get hurt," he reassured me, giving my fingers a firm squeeze. "We'll bust out of here somehow. I mean... someone's gotta notice that we're gone. I-I bet Samus is on her way right now. And Fox! All the smashers are really smart. Trust me, no one's gonna get hurt."

I gripped his hand back. His hand felt warm in mine.

Sure enough, minutes after his declaration, an angry troupe of smashers had barged in hollering bloody murder.

I watch the city lights glow and pop from the dimming skyline. It had happened so long ago. Two or three years back? I've forgotten how easily I used to cry at the drop of a dime. Something about the animated way Ness talked was inspiring - the way his face would brighten up or his eyes would laugh as if sharing a private joke. He'd always had a way with words since we were younger.

It made his sudden depression unnerving in contrast.

My eyes drop to the windowpane.

Barely a minute later, Ness's mom returns, setting down a cup of hot milk. "I'm heating up the soup. Here, take some cookies. Careful, they're hot."

While I don't want to impose trouble, I know her well enough not to turn the offer down. Her stubbornness won't let me leave without seeming rude. A familiar warmth spreads through my toes.

Ness has inherited her hot heart.

I bite into a sugar cookie. The sweet flavor explodes across my tongue.

Sitting down, Ness's mother watches me eat from across the kitchen table. Something about her slumped shoulders gives off a strange air of weariness. When I finish eating my cookie, she pushes the plate towards me and insists that I take seconds and thirds.

I wonder if she knows of her son's feelings for me.

"I heard that the paparazzi was here," I start cautiously.

"For a short while," Ness's mom agrees. "Most of them left Onett. You should've seen the lot plastering their faces against the windows. Some of them wanted to know where you lived. As if I was going to tell them!" She purses her lips in a grim line. "I don't think anyone's recognized your father, but keep a close eye out for him."

Right. I wince. "Sorry-"

"It's not your fault!" she says aghast, her eyes blazing. "The sheer nerve of the paparazzi! Barging into my house to ask if my son is straight! Why I never. I wanted to give them all a good smack of my frying pan!"

We fall into an uncomfortable hush. Ness's mom drops her hand back against the table. "My son... is he really...?"

Catching the question, I nod.

Her shoulders sag. "I see," she says quietly. She stares out the window. "I wonder, if I hadn't divorced his father..." Her eyes look distant. "He would still be normal."

A lump rises in my throat.

She lowers her voice. It sounds quieter. Softer. "How is my son doing? He hasn't gotten himself into any trouble, I hope."

"No, he's doing..." Thinking about the night Ness got himself wasted, I internally grimace. "All right."

Luckily, Ness's mom seems to buy my word. "That's good. I'm glad to hear that he's doing better. I'd ask him myself, but he hasn't called lately. Not that I mind. As long as he's happy, I'm okay with not hearing back every so often." She cracks a watery smile. "I suppose that living the life of a celebrity is a lot more fun than calling home. Who'd care about boring old mom when you have all the fancy parties in the world to attend?" She tries to laugh it off, but the concern glazing over her eyes betrays her lighthearted tone. "Lucas, when you see my son... Can you make sure that he stays out of trouble?"

"I'll be there for him," I promise.

Her eyes well up with tears. Ness's mom leans over and grips my hands. "I haven't forgotten about the day you saved my son. Please, take care of yourself."

The back of my neck burns. She had it wrong. Ness saved me in the Ruined Zoo, and after all that, I hadn't even been the one to find him in the end.

Ness always looked out for me, way too often for his own good. There was nothing noble about me trying to repay the favor.

I fumble for a coherent response, but looking satisfied enough, Ness's mom gently pats me in the cheek and walks back to the kitchen. She ladles soup into a styrofoam tupperware, then insists that I bring it home to share with my dad. Once again, she ignores my protests that I can make my way back on foot and drives me home.

Outside the car windows, the city blurs into a stream of light.

During the ride back, I think about Ness. About my feelings concerning him. I like Ness as a friend. As a brother. But the more I think about Ness, my chest gets tight. I definitely don't see Ness as a brother. Definitely not.

I love you.

Ness is my best friend. He'll stay my best friend.

I love you a lot.

My chest twinges in pain. I hunch my shoulders together. Ness is confused. Ness doesn't know what he's talking about.

Ness's mom gives me a concerned look through the rear-view mirror, but doesn't question me. Very much like her son, she's an expert in taking in social cues. I hope she can't see my mortified expression in the darkness.

We pull over by my apartment. Taking one look at my flustered face, Ness's mom gets the wrong idea, and thinks that I'm getting a fever. It takes her a lot of convincing not to accompany me up the stairs.

"You look a little faint," she says, worried. "Are you sure you don't want to stay over at our place? We can bring the air mattress into Ness's room-"

I give her a sheepish grin. "My dad's waiting for me."

She purses her lips. "You have a lot of groceries. Be careful going up the stairs."

"I will," I reassure her. Before she can try to change my mind again, I head up the stairs with a quick thanks, my ears ringing with her rebukes to eat and sleep more.

Fourth floor. Room 420. When I trudge inside and click the lights on, I notice that my dad's bedroom hangs ajar. I peer in.

Dad's not home. He's out working again.

Frustrated, I dump the groceries onto the floor. My dad caught pneumonia from prolonged dust exposure. Construction work hadn't been kind to his lungs. The doctor told him to take a break off his job. Not that my dad listened.

He needs to rest and recover, the doctor had said.

I take a deep breath and clench the hem of my shirt. Dad's bound to be back soon. Whether or not he's in the mood, he has to eat. Pouring the warm soup into an empty pot, I set the broth to a low boil.

Ten minutes later, the doorknob twists open with a clack. My dad trudges in, shaking snow off his coat. When he finally notices me standing in the kitchen, he stops in place. His eyes cut to the soup simmering on the stove.

I recognize the stale stench of tobacco lingering on his breath. "The doctor told you not to smoke," I say ruefully.

My dad only hangs his coat and brushes past me. He doesn't want to be looked after. His pride can't handle asking for my help.

Too tired to be fed up by his stubbornness, I set a bowl aside and go to bed.

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~oO0Oo~

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When I wake up, my dad's gone. The untouched bowl of soup has gone cold overnight. Dismayed, I pick it up, only for a note to flutter to the floor.

Off to work. Don't follow me.

Something about the note makes my stomach drop to the floor. Upset, I crumple up the note and toss it into the trash can. It cuffs the rim and bounces off. Storming after it, I snatch the wad of paper and throw it back in. The paper ball hits the metal bottom with a noisy clatter.

It's already been a full week. Dad hasn't shown any sign of getting better. He isn't growing worse either, but his condition is worrisome to the point that I don't feel safe leaving him alone. I need to do something, but I don't know what. I don't know how to help him.

It's kind of hard to help when your own dad refuses to acknowledge your existence.

A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble up my throat, but I force it down with an unsteady gulp. The empty room is too stifling, so I decide to take a long walk to Twoson. My dad isn't returning home until later. There's nothing else I can do, but wait for him to return. I tug on a jacket and head out.

Over the years, Onett has grown. Skyscrapers and urban construction explode into life at every corner. The proud city has become a tourist attraction, boasting of two representatives on the roster.

Arguably, Twoson looks boring and plain in comparison. Worn out over time, it's old and rusty. A rural Podunk.

But I like Twoson. Even in winter, grassy fields and trees plaster every acre of land. The water and air tastes fresher. Twisted, cobbled sidewalks dance around in circles, lending life to the town. Finding a nice spot on the top of a hill, I pat down the melted frost with my shoes and lazily raise my arm. The sun is still high up in the sky. It'll get cold soon, but evening is still a far cry away. Ample time for a quick nap. Satisfied, I close my eyes.

My only regret is not bringing a book along...

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The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand on end. I wake up from my nap, dazed and disoriented. Something tingles in the corner of my mind, and when a shadow covers the sun, I make out the shape with a squint.

The silhouette blurs into focus.

"I like to come here too. It's a nice place for a nap," the girl says, patting her pink petticoat into the grass. Her choppy strawberry-blonde bangs curl around her shoulders in a graceful bob. "But you should really be careful about where you sleep. I had to chase off the paparazzi before they could find you."

Uncertain, I glance at her. "Have we met before?"

"No." She hugs her knees to her chest. "At least, not in person."

Blond hair. Blue eyes.

"Paula," I realize.

She smiles. "Nice to see you too, Lucas. You look..." Her smile falters. My cheeks heat up; I've forgotten about my busted eye. Concerned, Paula raises her glowing hands, leaning them towards my face like hot brands. "PK LifeUp. Here, let's patch you up-"

"I'm good-"

To my dismay, Paula reaches for my face. "That bruise looks really bad-"

"Thanks, but I'm really okay." While Paula seems kind, I've just met her for the first time, and don't feel comfortable asking her for a huge favor. My bruises might be fresh, but they'll fade with time. Forcing down my unease, I try to return her smile. From the doubtful look on Paula's face, I'm failing to reassure her.

But sensing my discomfort, the hands retreat, and with a whisper, they lose their magic glow. "All righteo. I'll take your word for it," Paula sighs, then sits a little ways off to my side. "Get better soon... all right?"

My shoulders relaxing, I give her a grateful nod.

We watch a puffy cloud float past. Her eyes lighting up, Paula points out all the shapes in the sky.

During this time, I learn more about Paula. About the girl whose parents ran a daycare. About the girl who liked riddles and solving newspaper crossword puzzles. About the girl who, as clever as she was at scrabble, failed just as miserably at chess.

The girl who, when asked what she wanted to become, said, Teacher.

It's not the answer I expected. "Any particular reason?"

"I like watching people learn," she confesses. "And I like children. Do you?"

I shudder.

Paula laugh. "I'll take that as a no."

"I'm not a people person," I admit.

"So Ness tells me," she says, her eyes twinkling.

The sun starts to set, so I offer to walk her home. On the way back, Paula insists on taking a detour. She offers to buy me a drink; despite the fact that none of it had been her fault, I have a sneaking suspicion that still feels guilty about my bruises. She doesn't let the matter slide without returning the favor somehow, so I don't argue.

A snowflake melts against my cheek. Without the sun, the temperature dips. I could use a warm drink.

As if thinking the same, a crowd packs into the Twoson cafe. The aroma of coffee beans thaws my face.

I find us seats while Paula waits in line to pay. In an awkward attempt to distract myself from accidentally reading someone's mind, I end up watching her. Unlike Nana, who is broad-shouldered and tough and tomboyish, Paula carries a certain charm. She is what I suppose most boys would consider sexy - an enviable figure with a tiny waist, coquettish with all the curves in the right places, and a Californian tan that shimmers faintly over her skin. With her flowy pink cocktail dress, she's a natural Marilyn Monroe.

I barely recognize the girl in front of me as the sassy friend from Ness's videos chats. I've only heard bits and pieces about Paula through Ness. The tender care with which she nursed baby animals back to health. Her legendary prayer that saved the world from the cosmic destroyer, Giygas.

Carrying the same air of confidence, she's a split double of Ness. A more levelheaded Ness.

"You're a lot taller than I thought," she says, hurrying over with two cinnamon lattes in hand.

Surprised, I look up. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. Ness tells me everything about you. You're a little over 6 feet, right? And still growing. Giant." Her eyes light up slyly. "I bet I'm still slightly taller than Ness. He's what, 5'5"? Rounding up?"

"He's pretty short," I agree.

"He's a teddy bear," Paula adds. Mortified, she claps her hands over her mouth, but the snort of embarrassed laughter still escapes past her fingers.

Cracking fun at the expense of Ness's shorter height, we move onto other small talk. Brawl. Ness's quest against Giygas. The longer I get to know Paula, the more I can see why Ness first fell for her. She's just as compassionate as he is.

When I bring this up, Paula pauses. "Ness rejected me last year."

The news takes me by surprise. Then in hindsight, every time I mentioned Paula's name in passing, Ness had suddenly gotten the Oh shit look on his face.

Paula picks at the rim of her paper cup. "He was nice about it, but I mean, a rejection's still a rejection. It's gonna sting, no two ways around it." She stirs more milk into her latte. White swirls blossom onto its surface. "I think Ness feels awkward about talking to me again. He only started returning my calls after he realized that he'd fallen for someone else."

My own latte turns cold in my hands.

Paula hangs her head. She's not looking in my direction anymore. "I heard that Ness was crushing on someone. No one knows who it is, and the smashers aren't saying anything. Even the assist trophies are staying out of it, and Jeff is reluctant to tell me himself." Despite her tremulous smile, Paula's voice sounds remarkably even. "I'm just curious... you're his best friend, Lucas. You're a smasher too. You've got to have met Ness's crush at least once."

I shift in my seat. "His crush is... no one special."

Paula raises her eyebrow. "Oh? What kind of person is he?"

"The person Ness liked wasn't ready for a relationship." I stare down at my cup. "Ness could do better."

The din of idle chatter rises in the background.

Paula reaches over to grip my hand. "I don't think so," she whispers. "I never stood a chance against you."

She'd known that it was me. I avert my eyes from hers. "That's not true."

"'Course it's true." The worst part is that Paula doesn't sound accusatory. Her smile wavers up into a curve, and she lets go of my hand. "I should've known that Ness had feelings for you. You know, back then, during our quest against Giygas... he kept bringing you up. Constantly. Nonstop. I don't know what you said to him, but when Ness promised you that he'd return home safely, he took your words seriously to heart. If he wasn't calling his parents, he was calling you. He liked you before he even realized it. I can see why. You've been there for him before I showed up. I was trying to deny it the entire time..."

With an unsteady intake of breath, Paula clutches the edge of her dress. "Ness saved my life. He means a lot to me. I want him to be happy. I want to be happy for him... but I can't help it. I want to be selfish. I want Ness to be happy, but I want to be happy too." Her shoulders shiver. Wet droplets dot the back of her hands. "That's why I don't know how to feel about you, Lucas. I really d-don't..."

Uncertain, I hunch my shoulders together. I don't know how to console her, so I settle for handing her another napkin.

It seems to help. Paula gratefully takes it with unsteady hands. "I'm sorry. I'm horrible, aren't I?" She blows her nose. "I promised that I wasn't going to cry over a stupid crush, but god, look at me now. I'm such a wreck-"

"Ness is my best friend," I says quietly. "He's just mistaking our friendship for something more. He'll come around one day." My heart constricts. "I'll give him a good word or two about you. It should knock him back to his senses. Don't give up, Paula."

Startled, Paula studies my face. "Is that... is that really true?"

I nod.

Uncertain, Paula shakes her head. "But I thought you liked him," she says slowly. "You like him, don't you?"

I give her a helpless grimace. "I don't know how I feel about him."

"Ugh, Ness. I'm telling you; he's a hopeless romantic." Paula rubs her eyes, then stands up from the table. Her eyes flit to my face. "I don't know what'll happen, but I'm not giving up until the end. You'll understand, right? So long as Ness stays single, he's fair game." She gives me a fierce smile. "But I won't be a sore loser. Even if you change your mind... even if I lose to you, I hope that someday, we can be friends for real." Her voice turns gentle. "You know where I live. Come visit me anytime. We should catch up again."

I nod again, even though I know that I'll never take up her offer. It isn't because of Paula personally, but I've never been too comfortable about hanging out with people I don't know well. Large groups intimidate me. All my attempts to socialize within them end up in a pitifully awkward excuse of a mess, or in Ness pulling another saving grace under my nose and dragging me away before I can make a fool of myself. And while Paula is trying to be courteous, I can sense the pain I'm putting her through. I feel it. The tight feeling in her chest. The unsteady intake of her breaths. The same hollow ache I feel from Ness whenever he's close by.

Heartache. Her heart is crying.

She must have sensed my own guilt, because her smile wavers again. Emitting a choked I'm sorry, Paula dashes out of the cafe. Tiny silver bells tinkle cheerfully as the door swings shut after her, and her form quickly disappears into the snow.

Sitting in the booth, I watch the snow fall outside.

It's almost sundown when I walk back to Onett. The snow is falling faster from the cloudy sky. I eye it in worry. My dad should've gotten off work early. He should already be home.

Paula's face swims into mind. The genuine surprise in her question keeps bothering me. As if the answer had been obvious.

You like him, don't you?

I choke on the words. Me, like Ness? Ness is rash and quick to temper and careless to a fault. He's a hopeless dork. A hopeless dork who can't hold back his feelings half the time!

Yet, underneath his pride is someone honest. His head is hot... but his heart is pure.

You like him.

A hot spike of warmth prickles the back of my neck. Liked, not like. A very big difference. Any feelings I'd had for Ness are ancient history. I can't return what is no longer there.

We're just friends. Nothing more.

I wonder what Claus would've thought of him.

With a puff of smoke, the city bus rattles past me on the sidewalk. I watch it fade into the horizon. Then lifting my numb feet, which feel like a pair of dead weights, I drag myself towards the apartment.

The roads have iced over. My shoes crunch into the snow, sinking under my weight. Shivering, I rub my bruised eye. It's beginning to throb again in the cold, and when I poke at a particularly unpleasant spot, I flinch, accidentally bumping my hand hard against my mouth. Biting back a sharp hiss, I retract my fingers and experimentally touch my split lip. A sour copper taste explodes onto my tongue.

Instinctively, my hand glows, flickering feebly with PSI, but I force the sensation down. I've been straining my psychic powers over the past couple of days. Healing takes energy.

I know that I have to prioritize. My own injuries can wait.

Turning the block, I breathe in, then exhale in childish curiosity. A wisp of white spirals past my numb lips and into the air. My body aches with every step, and when an icy gust bites into my ankles, I regret not dressing smarter.

Like candlelight, a crowd of faces pops into view by the apartment gates. Distant arguing hits my ears.

"Dude, give up. I think we've got the wrong place-"

"No, I'm telling you, he lives here-"

I tune them out. The neighbors on the first floor are a noisy gaggle of college freshman. Two of the party goers must be arguing over who was supposed to bring the booze where. Tucking my chin into my jacket, I pass them and reach into my pockets. As my frozen fingers fumble for the keys, an angry voice shatters the night.

"For the last time, I'm not leaving Lucas behind!"

I jerk my head up in shock.

Hearing my ragged breath, one by one, they turn around. Popo. Red. Toon. Their faces look pale amidst the falling snow.

And looking as though he'd been waiting on my doorstep for years, the subject of my own thoughts swivels his head up to stare at me. His trademark baseball bat is slung over his bag. A strange emotion blazes in his puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

Ness is standing outside my apartment.

Author's Note:

*In Earthbound, Giygas is defeated by Paula's desperate prayer to the NPCs and to the player himself. It's only through their support that Ness and co. are able to defeat Giygas.

*Lucas's father is Flint, a playable character in Mother 3.

Something to bear in mind:

- Smash City sells cartridges of all video games.

- The paparazzi have yet to recognize Flint as Lucas's father, because no one in Smash City has played Mother 3. No one has played Mother 3, because no one has access to the Mother 3 cartridges.

- SO WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE MOM 3 CARTRIDGES?! TO BE CONTINUED...