The years passed.
During Lon'qu's eighteenth summer, Ke'ri discovered his fascination with playing with bugs and mocked him mercilessly for it. He in turn uncovered her affinity for talking to birds, and returned the favor.
They often sat on "Heron Hill", as Ke'ri had named it. "Because sometimes," she justified. "There's a heron that stands by the water. Besides, that's what I've always thought of it as."
"Sure," Lon'qu shrugged. "Either way, it's much easier than calling it 'that hill that overlooks the river'," he remarked.
Some days – after much coercing from Ke'ri – they would sing duets together, Ke'ri's voice high and clear, and Lon'qu's a little rough on the edges, as though rusty from disuse.
Some days, they would cook together. Lon'qu peeled the potatoes and cut the onions while Ke'ri stirred ingredients and spices together in a pot.
During Lon'qu's nineteenth year, Ke'ri went to Ylisse for a full year.
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and for Lon'qu, this was no exception.
On the day of her return, Lon'qu went to visit Ke'ri. He stood a foot away from her, and though Lon'qu itched to embrace her, he held his distance, worried that he would create a strange awkwardness – and in trying to avoid it, succeeded in creating it.
"So…how was Ylisse?" he asked casually, hoping he could somehow restore the sense of normalcy, wondering how things had flowed so naturally in the past. "What was it like?"
She shrugged cheerily, a bit disappointed at his stubbornly closed body language. Arms crossed over his chest, eyes downcast – yeah, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to try and hug him. "It's a bit difficult to sum up a year's worth of experiences in a few words, but it was wonderful! Though I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to Ylissean food. Some of it's delicious, but some of it…who would have thought of even eating those kinds of things in the first place?"
He laughed – a little too loudly, a little too long. Gods, had it always been so awkward? "That's good to hear."
Thirty seconds passed, then a minute. She cleared her throat to break the silence, shifting uncomfortably. "Lon'qu, why are you acting so strangely?"
He wished he could answer her, but he could not fathom the reason why.
Later, when he had returned to Linan, Lon'qu realized it. It had happened – slowly, insidiously, over the course of a few years – but somehow, Ke'ri had integrated herself into his life, and – cheesy though it may sound – he could not imagine living without her.
The very next day, he conveyed his feelings to her, and was not disappointed by her response.
The week after, he formally asked for Shuo'li's permission to court her, and received it.
Life went on as usual – their weekly picnics continued, their carefree conversations flowed, and their relationship slowly budded into full bloom. Every month, during the full moon, they would go out to Heron Hill and stargaze together.
It was one of those nights that Lon'qu confessed. "The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" he had asked her. His heart raced furiously as he waited for her reply – though he already knew her reply, he needed to hear it, out in the open. Her eyes shone brightly in the glow of the moonlight, and when she smiled at him he thought his heart would burst.
"Yes, it is quite beautiful indeed," she replied, putting her hand over his. At that moment, Lon'qu knew that he would remember this day for as long as he lived, and he wished that these days would never end.
Little did he know, all too soon, they would.