Something was new again.

Vicente thought he'd be free of trying to adapt to something new at last before what he found out yesterday. Of course, realising he liked his friend was nowhere near as terrifying as finding out his parents would get divorced or meeting his stepmother, but the discovery had been jarring enough that he'd drifted off in the middle of his evening shift and nearly burned an entire batch of pineapple pastries.

The inexplicable happiness he got whenever he spent time with Madeline or heard her say something nice finally had a name. Or, at least he thought it did. Acknowledging he liked her didn't mean he had a crush on her, did it?

For some reason, "crush" sounded like an awfully childish word. It was a word to describe a twelve-year-old wanting to date their classmate because they sat next to each other and they worked on a project together once; it was a word best suited for kindergarten kids who played at marriage. It didn't feel like a word that fit how he felt.

His younger siblings would call him an idiot if they heard that. Vicente could practically hear Leon scoffing, "whatever word you use, you can't deny the fact that you've got the hots for Madeline."

Goodness, Leon would have a field day if he heard about all this. He couldn't know, not yet. Ling might handle the news slightly better, Vicente thought, even if she did talk a lot about wanting to be an aunt. And what about Yao?

"Oi, where the hell have you gone off to?"

Ling was standing in front of him, her wet hair dripping water onto his shirt. She kicked him lightly, asking, "are you going to take a shower or not? Jia Long and Yao are both done, and all while they were in the bathroom you've been drifting off to Pluto or something. Are you okay, Brother?"

He blinked. "Oh. I'm fine, just a little tired." Vicente got up from their dining table, the ache in his shoulders from a whole day of work making itself known again, and went to the washroom.

A steaming mug of hot milk tea was waiting on the dining table for him when he emerged, as were his siblings. Leon was munching on a leftover egg tart, and next to him Yao was writing something down in his chequebook. His older brother looked up as he sat down, saying, "just tell me if you need more tea, I know you need plenty of energy for that essay."

Picking up the mug, Vicente said, "my essay isn't due until next Tuesday. I can wrap it up a little later."

Leon reached for another egg tart. "Yeah, well, the calendar you hung up in our room says the hard deadline is tomorrow. And the last time I saw you writing it, you were only halfway done. So… yeah."

He nearly spat out his tea. "Wait, what?"

"That moment when a high-school dropout has better memory than a college student, am I right?" Leon cracked.

Just barely keeping himself from swearing, Vicente ran into his room to get the laptop that he shared with Yao. Like his brother said, he still had half of his essay to go. That meant he had a little over twelve hours to write four thousand words.

"See, this is why we don't leave things 'til the last minute." Leon popped the rest of his second egg tart into his mouth and took another.

Still writing, Yao squinted at him. "I swear your stomach is a bottomless pit."

"Nah, I'm just keeping these tarts from being wasted. It's a very noble cause."

While his brothers were talking, Vicente opened up his word document and began to write. He only got a few paragraphs in before Madeline suddenly began occupying his thoughts. Madeline talking, Madeline smiling, Madeline writing with that beautiful, intense expression…

Before he could stop himself, he picked up his phone and tapped into his texts with her. Not even a minute later, Madeline sent a message reading:

? it's late, why are you online? (Sent 00:36)

So she was awake, too. He replied:

I could ask you the same question (Sent 00:36)

More messages popped up soon after.

Madeline
I'm about to go to sleep (Sent 00:37)
You should too, you need erst (Sent 00:38)
*Rest (Sent 00:38)

As much as he didn't want to tell someone he desperately wanted to impress that he was an idiot who'd forgotten the due date of an essay and had to write half of it overnight, lying to her would be even worse. Vicente decided to tell her the truth.

Well (Sent 00:39)
I haven't finished the essay that's due tomorrow (Sent 00:39)
Hopefully I won't have to pull an all-nighter (Sent 00:40)

She replied:

Oh dear (Sent 00:41)
Good luck, don't sleep too late (Sent 00:41)
Actually (Sent 00:42)
Why don't I share my docs with you? (Sent 00:42)
You can't copy me word for word of course but maybe I have points that you don't (Sent 00:42)

He took another sip of his milk tea and considered the offer. That would technically be cheating, but he was honestly too tired to care.

Oh goodness you're a lifesaver (Sent 00:44)
Thanks so much (Sent 00:44)

A few moments later, an email popped up inviting him to join Madeline's word document. She also sent a few other messages reading:

Well you helped me cram for that quiz last week (Sent 00:45)
So I kind of owe you one (Sent 00:45)
I'm going to sleep now, good luck writing (Sent 00:46)
Goodnight (Sent 00:46)

With a smile on his face, Vicente texted her "goodnight" back and returned to work.

…

Grateful that he'd at least managed to get two hours of sleep, Vicente sat down next to Madeline in class the next day holding a thermos of tea that was already half-empty. He had to run to the campus library to print his essay out before going to the classroom, and had to stop to catch his breath before returning Madeline's greeting.

"Let's go to The Cove for lunch," she proposed. "You look like you need quite a bit more coffee to get through the day."

"Mmhmm." He rested his head on his desk, the sides of his glasses digging into his cheek.

"You look really tired, you know."

"I think I can hear colours." Vicente squinted at the board. Was this how getting a hangover felt like? "I can hear colours and see sound."

Madeline laughed. "Seeing sound, you say? What does my voice look like?"

"Music." He blinked. "Wait, that's a sound. Uh… your voice looks like flowers. And concert halls, I think. I don't know." Vicente reached for his thermos again. "I'm tired."

"Hang in there." She flipped her notebook open, saying, "I'll wake you up if you fall asleep."

…

The two of them went for lunch at one in the afternoon, and by then Vicente felt ready to lie down on the ground and pass out right then and there. He'd already finished his tea and had ordered a cup of black coffee to give him a boost of energy; he was pinching himself to stay awake. "I have no idea how my brother managed to pull all-nighters when he was in university," he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. "This tastes so bitter, why do you like it?"

Madeline had ordered a mug of floral tea, which sent out steam that smelled strongly of roses. "I guess I'm just used to it," she replied. "Matthieu hogs all the cream and sugar at home, so there's never any left for Francis and me."

Vicente yawned. "Still can't believe I wrote half an essay in five hours. There must be so many typos in it."

"I'm sure you'll do all right, you've gotten good grades in all your work before this." She nibbled on a spoonful of cottage pie. "By the way, do you mind if I ask a question?"

"Go ahead."

"What do you wish for?" Madeline's eyes were bright as she asked. "What do you long for so badly that you would pour all your heart and soul into hoping that you got it, even if the chances of that happening were close to none?"

He thought. Nobody had asked him anything like that before — hell, not many people wanted to know that much about him. What did he want? "Well," Vicente said slowly, "I think I want my siblings to be safe and happy."

"And nothing for yourself?"

"No, I don't think so." He finished off his cup of bitter coffee. "And how about you? What do you wish for?"

"I want to be known as just Madeline. Not Francis' younger sister or Matthieu's twin. And not Madeline, the girl at the counter who's strange and never pays attention to anything. Just Madeline Bonnefoy."

It was a simple wish. And at that moment, Vicente wanted ever so absurdly to become a genie or a sorcerer, and cast some sort of spell so that Madeline would never feel overshadowed or looked down upon ever again. But he couldn't. All he could offer was reassurance. "Maybe that wish will come true," he said.

"Maybe."

Watching Madeline across the table, stunning and poignant as ever, Vicente realised that he had something — someone else to wish for.