Love. What a strange feeling! She was so used to just being super close friends with him that falling in love had barely been a possibility. Romance and friendship were basically two different things, right? You don't just smooch your lover like it's nothing! But...it was the logical next step, right? She couldn't tell for sure, since, admittedly, she didn't know much about love. She knew of childhood crushes and playground teases...but those were different, weren't they?

More importantly, she had to know about whatever he mentioned. Something about things being better than elsewhere. What was "elsewhere"? And if they were so close, why was he being vague about the whole thing? Best friends let their secrets be known to each other, right? He was quiet, sure, but he wouldn't hide things from her! It's not like whatever he's hiding could lead to a butterfly effect that could potentially destroy them both...it couldn't be. She had to know.

She found him in the shade, continuing to write and draw in his book. He seemed determined, yet also nervous. Whatever could he be nervous about? Was it because of the "elsewhere"? Why would he draw and/or write about it if he was so bothered about it? That's why she had to know! It couldn't be just because he could! She would get to the bottom of it...and perhaps it was boosted by the recent feelings of infatuation she felt for him, but that didn't matter.

"Wilfre, what are you doing?" she asked, looking over to where he was writing. It took him a few seconds before he noticed her voice, which made her even more concerned. What was it with that book? Was it cursed, which meant this was an even bigger problem than she thought? I have to know, she repeated in her mind over and over, to the point where she considered the possibility of speaking those very words out loud, her thoughts becoming reality. Luckily, he managed to answer soon after he heard her...soon enough, she reckoned.

"I'm working on something, Circi."

His tone was...off. It was still the quiet, soft spoken voice she knew well; but there was something about it that sent a slight chill down her spine. It felt...distant, like he hadn't talked to someone in a decade. Obviously, he didn't really talk to anybody in a decade, but…

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

A judgmental tone. Was he mad at her? No...he couldn't be. It wouldn't hurt for her to try to figure out what's wrong, right? Of course he would understand! And if he didn't...well, at least one of her suspicions would be right.

"Well...what are you working on?"

As a response, he only stared deeper at the page, the pen on the edge of touching the fine paper. From what she could see, it seemed to look like...a very detailed scribble. Was this what he meant when he mentioned the "elsewhere"? If so—it sure looked underwhelming. She pouted her lips, making sure she wasn't seeing double. This couldn't have been what's keeping him up all night. She had to know this...for his sake.

"This is important, Circi." was he the only thing he could muster, before returning to draw in his book yet again. Her concern mixed itself into frustration, which only resulted in even more concern. In that moment, she had wondered what her main motivation for this was: was it love? Or something even greater? But nothing could be greater than love...right? Strangely, the more she thought about that, the less she noticed the seemingly inanimate scribble...changing.

"Wait! No, no…!"

Did he break yet again?

"Wilfre, what's wrong?"

This only seemed to upset him even more. He frantically scribbled on the drawing, trying to fix it, trying to make it right—to no avail. Eventually, when he realized it was a lost cause, he slammed the book shut, desperately trying to make sense of what just happened. It was only a minute before he put the book down where she couldn't see, before turning away, his despair hidden.

"This always happens." he muttered, tensing everytime he even so much as stared at that strange tome. "Everytime I try to draw something on those pages, it always becomes a monster in the end." She could do nothing but watch, unsure of how to make him feel better. She could deal with ordinary problems and the like, but...she knew by now he was far from ordinary. Not in the slightest.

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize." Those words sent an even greater chill down her body. "This isn't your fault." She glanced at his shadow, only noticing that it seemed to appear darker in the shade. Not only that, but she felt a great discomfort for even slightly witnessing it. Yet at the same time, she couldn't bear to look away from her own best friend, someone who probably needed her help, even if his pleas were subtle. She knew he needed her help. And she wasn't one to shy away from helping others.

"I know, Wilfre. That's why I want to help you."

The shadow grew lighter, to the point of turning faint. He finally turned to look at her as well, his eyes showing a faint glimmer of...well, she hoped it was what she was thinking of. She couldn't believe it! Was he finally accepting her offer of help? If so, they could start by throwing away that weird book! And once they did, he could stop worrying about those scribbles and whatever was going on "elsewhere", and she could turn her simple feelings of infatuation into complex feelings of love, and then they'd live happily ever after! She knew fairy tales weren't real, but that didn't mean they couldn't come true...right?

"You'll...help me?"

She nodded, that same feeling of hope brimming in her eyes as those butterflies from earlier threatened to cram themselves into her stomach yet again—but this time, she didn't even care. As long as she could help him and make sure he didn't become anything close to the monster with the pitch-black shadow—whatever that meant—his response was all she needed.

"Thank you."