*WARNING: PLEASE READ FULL AUTHOR'S NOTE FOR APOLOGIES AND CONTENT NOTICE*

HELLO MY FRIENDS

holy crap it's been a month and a half i'm so sorryyyyyyyyyy :'(

but FEAR NOT!

I have returned with another chapter!

I'm sorry if its a little short! I've been working on so many projects but I finally found time for this one!

*CONTENT NOTICE*

THIS CHAPTER IS ONE REASON THIS STORY IS RATED T.

closed-door sex scene ahead...nothing explicit is described I swear. I had to get my sis Helena to help with that scene so kudos to her bc I could never have written it myself!

please let me know if it's too much! It is very closed-door but please just tell me if you don't think it should be in here

thanks my friends! looking forward to feedback on this chapter!

peace out!

Christmas break is over far too quickly, but I don't mind all that much. It means I get to see Momo again.

It also means a lot of homework. That part isn't as fun.

I'm sitting in the SFIT library one night in January, clothed in a soft, thick sweater to insulate myself against the chill. Sitting next to the window might not have been the best decision—the cold seeps through the glass and into my bones.

Pulling my computer out of my bag, I start glancing over my calculus notes, hoping to get some studying in. My eyes slide out of focus almost immediately, and by the time ten o' clock ticks around, I can barely stay awake. My head keeps drooping, and my eyes are burning.

"Tadashi," says a smooth, silky voice. "May I have a word?"

I glance up to see Obake, looking perfectly composed as always, no trace of exhaustion in his expression.

"Yeah," I yawn, and Obake sits down across from me, pulling up a chair.

"How is your homework coming?" my friend inquires, his tone light and pleasant. "I couldn't help but notice that you were studying. Do you need any assistance?"

"It's okay," I tell him. "I'm doing a lot better than last term, so I think I'm good. Thanks for asking, though—I really appreciate it."

"Excellent," Obake says, then leans in slightly, his clasped hands resting on the table. "Tadashi, I wonder if I might ask a favor?"

"Sure," I say cheerfully, trying to stave off my tiredness. "Fire away!"

Obake smiles. "I'd like your assistance with something, my friend. Something very important to me."

A sense of apprehension washes over me as Obake continues speaking. "I want you to help Momakase and I build a better San Fransokyo. You've proven to be a very adept roboticist, and I believe you could greatly accelerate our work. In becoming part of our plan, you would build androids to help things run more smoothly, as well as other robots to help clean things up after our—ahem—takeover."

My mouth is dry. He wants me to help with his plan to destroy San Fransokyo?

"Rest assured that your family would be spared from the destruction," Obake tells me. "We would remove them from the city before taking any offensive measures. What do you say, Tadashi? Will you join me in my cause?"

My heart is pounding wildly in my chest. "People are gonna get hurt, aren't they, Obake?"

Obake shrugs, his tone even. "I suppose so, but is that not the price of any cause? The loss of something we hold dear in order to achieve something far greater?"

"They're innocent people," I whisper. "They have no idea what you're going to do to them."

"Tadashi," Obake says softly. "I need you to understand that I regret having to take lives to complete our plan. This is not something I take lightly, I promise you that. But I believe that it is the right thing to do to ensure the ideal—to provide a safe and glorious future for the people of San Fransokyo."

"There's not gonna be a people of San Fransokyo if you go through with this," I tell him. "Please, Obake, isn't there any other way to do this? Like, I don't know, a peace initiative or something?"

"Sometimes war is the only way to achieve peace," Obake replies, and the left side of his face gleams a bright purple. "And I believe that this is the case now. This is the only way to save our future. So." He leans forward conspiratorially. "Can I count you in?"

"Obake, I—I can't," I mumble. "I can't join you. I know we're friends, but…it just doesn't feel right."

Obake inclines his head. "Very well, Tadashi."

For a moment, I think I see a flash of hurt cross his face, but it's quickly replaced by a smile as Obake holds out a hand. "Still friends, yes?"

I hoist a smile onto my face and shake his hand. "Yep."

"I'd like to ask you, if nothing else, a favor," Obake says. "Would you promise to keep silent about this? As you know, we can't have my little plan getting out into the world."

My smile becomes steadily more artificial. "Sure. Just—if you can think of any other way to do it, would you…"

"Of course."

As I walk out to the trolley, the night wind whipping against my face, I'm pretty sure that both of us are lying.


The next day, I'm sitting half-asleep at my usual lunch table, exhausted from staying up too late. I'm studying a lot, and I feel great about the upcoming exams, but my various problems are still present. Baymax still has a lot of bugs to work out, and I don't know what to do about Obake, and I really wanna take Momo on a date, but I don't know how to ask.

That first problem can be solved faster than the other two—all I have to do is check the robot over and make sure everything's working properly. Some more coding might be in order, but it shouldn't take too long.

The second problem is a lot bigger. Obake's plan is terrible, and I think I should honestly go to the police or the FBI or someone of that sort, but I don't want to get my friends thrown in jail. Plus, Momo told me that Obake had some kind of brain damage from an accident a few years ago, so I don't know if he's entirely right in the head. He might not realize what he's doing.

I'm slightly ashamed to say that the third problem is the one occupying most of my brain right now. I knew from the first two weeks of chemistry that I liked Momo, and I'd be lying if I said I haven't entertained fantasies about the two of us. But I don't know how to ask her out—the closest we got to dates were the blade searches, and now we know where those are. Besides, she's adamantly refused to take me on the actual retrieval expedition.

Maybe she'll ask me out. I'd like to get contacts soon, so I don't have to wear these glasses that make me look like a nerd, and I think I'm getting taller. The layer of baby fat around my midsection is disappearing, but my cheeks are still fuller than I'd like them to be. Maybe if I work out more often…

I sigh, cupping my chin in my hand and closing my eyes. Who am I kidding? There's no way Momo would ever ask me out. Actually, there's no way she would ever ask any guy out—she's just not that kind of girl—but I'm pretty sure I have even less of a chance.

"Tadashi?"

I try not to groan inwardly as I realize that the voice is Honey Lemon's. It's not like I despise her or anything—she's a great friend—but she keeps going out of her way to spend time with me, and I'm worried she has a crush on me. Not that I'm not flattered, of course, but I like Momo.

"Hey, Honey Lemon," I sigh, opening my eyes as she climbs into the chair across from me. "How're you doing?"

"Great!" she chirps. "How's your day going?"

"Stressful. I've got so many things to do."

"Well, I wouldn't want to add to that," Honey Lemon says, "but do you want to relax a little? We could go see a movie or grab some coffee."

Oh, great. Now she wants to go on a date.

All I can do is stare at her a little, my brain zooming into overdrive as I try to think of what to do. On one hand, Momo might kill me if she ever found out. But, to be honest, I don't think she sees me as anything more than an adorable, bumbling idiot, certainly not someone worthy of her attention. I also don't want to be leading Honey Lemon on—should I just tell her I like Momo?

On the other hand, Honey Lemon is exactly the kind of girl that Aunt Cass wants me to date, so she'd be pleased. She's even told me I should date multiple girls and try and pick out the one I want to be with. And Honey Lemon is my friend, so it probably wouldn't be too awkward.

What harm can it do?

"Sure," I tell Honey Lemon. "When are you free?"

Her face lights up, and I instantly regret my decision as she types my number into her phone and texts me to meet at six on Saturday.

If Saturday never comes, it'll be too soon.


Saturday comes.

I'm standing outside the Lucky Cat, hands shoved into my pockets, staring at the ground as Honey Lemon grabs my arm and leads me into my own café. The bell over the door dings as we come in, and Aunt Cass looks up. "Welcome to the—"

Her eyes go wide, and an ecstatic grin spreads over her face. "Tadashi! Is this your—your date?"

I nod mutely, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

"Let's get you a table!" Aunt Cass gushes. "Come over here! What's your name, sweetie?"

"Evangeline Rivera," Honey Lemon tells my aunt, smiling shyly at her from beneath dark lashes. "But most people call me Honey Lemon. You can call me Honey if you want."

"And how do you know Tadashi?" Aunt Cass asks as she ushers me into a chair. My face burns, and I desperately try to stamp the flush down. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

"I met him in the community lab. He needed a place for Baymax, and I helped him get a private lab to work with."

"Tadashi's certainly a lucky boy," Aunt Cass says warmly. "What can I get you two? It's on me!"

I barely even hear my order. I think it might be a sugar donut. Or waffles. I really don't know.

Turns out, it's a sugar donut, but it tastes like carbon fiber as I try to engage in conversation with both Honey Lemon and my aunt. I think Hiro comes downstairs at some point, smirking at us from behind the counter, but I only vaguely register his presence.

"So, Honey," I rasp, "what's your degree in again?"

"Chemistry," she says sweetly, her eyelashes fluttering as if implying a deeper meaning.

Oh no. We do not have chemistry, none whatsoever—at least, I don't think we do. But Honey Lemon's enticing smile and Aunt Cass's beaming face say otherwise.

I hear a few more sentences from Honey Lemon, and Aunt Cass is fawning over how cute the pair of us are, but all I can think of is how wrong this is. I love Momo. I should have just told Honey Lemon that and been done with it. It's not like I'd want to break her heart, but I feel like I'm cheating on the girl I actually like.

What on earth am I going to do?

Finally, finally, Aunt Cass leaves us alone, and I stare into my cup of swiftly cooling hot chocolate, watching the whipped cream swirl on its surface.

"You okay, Tadashi?" Honey Lemon asks, placing a hand over mine. I try not to flinch at her touch, reminding myself that she's my friend and that we're on a date.

"Yeah," I tell her, forcing an artificial smile. "Just…thinking."

She nods at my cup. "You don't like coffee?"

I shrug. "It's a little too bitter. I've tried sugar, but it doesn't really work for me, plus I can't stand the smell. When I need caffeine, I usually drink Dr. Pepper."

"Dr. Pepper's great too," Honey Lemon agrees. "I'd rather use that to caffeinate."

"Coffee's the traditional date, though."

This falls a little flat, and I glance uncomfortably back down at the cup, but Honey Lemon smiles. "Did I ever tell you how I got my nickname?"

"I have wondered that, actually," I say, looking up. "And no, you haven't told me. What's the story?"

"I had a cold for a month," Honey Lemon tells me. "I had a sore throat for almost all of it, and Fred got me some honey lemon cough drops. I went through, like, fifteen bags of those before the cold was finally gone. Fred thought it was hilarious that I liked those cough drops so much, and he started calling me Honey Lemon, so…" She spreads her arms. "Here we are."

I can't help but smile. "That's pretty cool. I'm actually really surprised that your real name is Evangeline, though."

"I never liked it," Honey Lemon says. "My mom insisted on giving me a super-long name. I've got two middle names, too—my legal name is Evangeline Lunaria Araceli Rivera."

She smiles, but it quickly fades. "My dad always called me Eva. He told me I could be anything I wanted to be, but Mama wanted me to be a normal girl—a girl in a dress and an apron who cooked and cleaned and did the work for her husband. But I didn't want to be that, so I left Veracruz eighteen months ago and got on a bus to San Fransokyo. I'd had good grades in school, and I applied for a few scholarships, so SFIT accepted me, and now I'm here."

Honey Lemon looks up, staring me in the eyes. "And I'm free. I've met so many people who care about me, and I can't imagine ever going back to the life I had in Veracruz. I mean, I haven't heard from my parents in a while—well, Dad texts, but Mama's basically disowned me. Still, I'd rather be here, with you, than anywhere else in the world."

I'm stunned. Why do all the girls I know have troubled pasts?

"Thank you for everything, Tadashi," Honey Lemon whispers. "You're amazing."

"So—so are you," I say softly. "I'm sorry about your parents."

Honey Lemon shrugs. "It's okay. Mama never liked me much anyway. Plus, she'd never approve of a boy like you, so it's probably good that she doesn't know."

"Me? Why not?"

"You're a nice guy," Honey Lemon tells me, her fingers having moved from my hand as they start to creep up my arm. "Mama would think you were too soft, too weak to take care of me. But I know better."

This table is really small. She's leaning across it, getting closer.

"Honey," I whisper, panic starting to flow through my veins. "Honey, I don't—"

I don't love you.

I don't say the words, and so she doesn't hear them, and so I do nothing as she presses her lips to mine, the faint scent of pineapple drifting from them, and it's nothing like I imagined, no, it's too much—

There is nothing I can do—I can't pull away, I can't breathe, I can't think, I'm just frozen. This is not what I want.

But it's what Honey Lemon wants, and it's what Aunt Cass wants, and it's what everyone wants.

And who am I to go against that?

So I wind my hand into Honey's hair, and I kiss her without any fire behind it, no desire, no want, no life. The kiss is dead, cold and dry, and it feels like a husk of what I really want.

And as I wave goodbye to Honey Lemon and her trolley disappears into the darkness, I look up at the stars and wish I could take it all back as the city is illuminated with neon and the pinpricks of light go out.

—MOMAKASE—

It is February fourteenth, nine forty-nine P.M., when he shows up at my door.

I open the door honestly expecting to see Tadashi. He is by all means the romantic type, the kind of boy who buys teddy bears and heart-shaped chocolates for his girlfriend on Valentine's Day. But the most I've seen of him today is a text wishing me a happy Valentine's Day.

The face I see behind the door is Obake, bundled up to his chin in a hoodie and a red scarf that make him appear much softer than normal. His hair is wind-tousled, his cheeks and nose reddened by the chill. Snow is rare in San Fransokyo, but the winter temperatures are unpredictable.

"Momakase," he says, and his teeth chatter slightly. "A happy Valentine's Day to you."

I tilt my head. "I didn't think you were the type, to be honest."

"It is a holiday to celebrate love. Of course I am the type."

He sounds almost affronted, and my lips curl unwillingly.

Something pink, cold or blush, lingers across his cheeks, and he reaches into his coat. "I—this is for you."

He holds out a long-stemmed black rose. I take it in my human fingers, and upon closer inspection realize that it is not simply a flower. It is scraps of metal in shades of gray, welded together to create a smooth, thornless stem, and a dozen carbon petals carefully set in the bud of the rose. The intricacy is stunning, each petal curved at the edge as a real rose's would be, and the stem etched with delicate filigree in sweeping patterns and ancient characters.

I look at the rose, then at the windswept boy offering it.

"Thank you," I manage to say. "It is beautiful."

I know without asking that he made it. There is no other artist in San Fransokyo who could have—would have—created this for me.

Obake gives a soft incline of his head, turns to leave, but before I know what I am doing, my fingers are closing around his arm, pulling him back toward me.

"Stay." It sounds too much like an order, and I let fall a word I rarely say, a hint of vulnerability seeping into my tone. "Please?"

The uncertainty in my voice, the want,is not something I have heard before. His eyebrows rise, his lips twitch. He has not heard it either.

"All right," he says, and my cyborg hand releases him, guiding him over the threshold.

When he is inside and the temperature of the room seems to rise, I remember that my outfit is not so appropriate for the weather. I am wearing only black sweatpants and a loose white tank top. It feels exposed, underwhelming next to him, put together and perfect.

My hair is down. I wear no makeup.

He is watching me, and I feel as if those gray eyes are stripping the skin off my bones and leaving only the raw, broken remnants of my soul.

And I—

—am blushing.

I swallow hard. Surreptitiously, clear my throat. "Would you like anything? Tea? Hot cocoa?"

His eyes raise high on the wall, where Shuto's paintings hang. "Tea would be lovely."

Steam blows into my face from the kettle as I boil the water, and he takes the liberty of arranging mugs and teabags. The humidity lends a slight curl to my hair, already damp from showering, and soon, the whole apartment smells like steam and a wooden, salty scent that must be him because I have never smelled it before.

I lean against the doorway of my bedroom, across from Obake, not sure why we are so close to where I sleep, while both of us sip tea.

"Momakase," he says, "do you remember when I showed you the stars?"

The stars. The dock. The kiss.

"Of course I remember."

"I told you I felt as if I could discover the wonders of the universe. As if I could find the most beautiful, perfectly crafted thing the cosmos has to offer. Do you remember that?"

He is closer than a moment ago. I set my tea on the table next to me.

"Yes," I breathe.

"Do you remember when I told you that once, I met a beautiful girl, and she was intelligent and strong and brave? That it took me mere hours to fall in love with her? That I kissed her on a dock and showed her the universe and wished I could freeze that moment in time?"

I look up. He is taller than I remember, my eyes level with his lips. "You never said those things."

"No, I didn't." His hand brushes my cheek, his fingers graze across my jaw and around to the back of my neck. "I was afraid, and so was she, afraid of being too much too soon, but I am not afraid anymore, Momakase."

Closer still, pressing me against the doorframe.

"I am not afraid, and you are the beautiful thing I was looking for."

That hope in his eyes.

The light of it fluttering in my chest.

He tilts my chin up and brushes his lips against mine, and they are as soft as I remember, softer than it feels like the lips of a man should be, and what starts as an innocent touch turns into something blazing and hungry, his hands slipping into the curve of my waist and pulling me against his chest, his body lean and hard on mine, his fingers gently lowering the strap of my top.

I am on my tiptoes to reach his mouth, my arms around his neck, teasing the tousled ends of his dark hair. My eyes are closed, lips parted, his teeth scraping against my lip.

He pulls me harder into him, lifting me off my feet. There is an unspoken question in his kiss, and I mold my mouth to his with a fierceness that carries an inexplicable answer.

We are collapsing onto my bed, side by side. The straps of my tank top hang down my arms.

He is kissing me again, my lips, my nose, my forehead. I am pulling his hoodie over his head, tracing the lines of his now bare chest, his hands running up and down my body.

The world blurs, and his stormy eyes are darkened with desire, my back is pressed into the mattress. He is pulling off my tank top, unhooking my bra, holding my wrists gently above my head, his weight pressing me down—

—he is kissing my face, my neck, he is pressing his lips to the spot just over my heart—

—and he is whispering Momo, my name like a prayer on his tongue—

—and he is saying I love you—

—and I am saying it back.

—OBAKE—

I've made a terrible mistake.

Of course, I realized this as soon as I made it, but tonight I'm dwelling on it again. I've probably jeopardized our entire effort.

I should have known that Tadashi would never agree to help with my plan. He is too kind, too innocent to ever do something to hurt a person, even someone he didn't know. He doesn't understand how important the future of the city is to me.

The green light of my base beckons as I ride the pod out to it, sliding through the dark water toward the structure. I place a hand on the cool glass, watching the faint shapes of bay life flick past the window.

What was I thinking? I should have bided my time, waited until everything was ready. Now, if Tadashi goes to the police, my vision for a better future could end before it has even started. He promised not to tell anyone, but I'm not sure I trust Tadashi to keep something this big a secret—eventually, the guilt will consume him, and he will crack. I know he will.

The pod surfaces, and I step out of it, taking a deep breath and trying to think of what to do as I walk inside. The double doors slide silently to both sides, then shut just as quietly behind me.

I collapse into my chair and look up at the glowing green screens, dragging a hand through my hair, allowing it to fall into my eyes. What am I going to do? Tadashi could go to the police at any time.

"Father?" a voice asks, and I turn my chair around to see Trina standing behind me, her face as worried as an android's can be. "May I be of assistance?"

"No, Trina," I sigh. "But thank you for offering. I just need time to think, and then perhaps you can assist me in my endeavors."

"Obake?" says another voice, this one younger, smaller, more alive. Not a robot.

The boy edges out into the main room, dark circles under his eyes. "I can't sleep, Obake. I keep having nightmares—the same one as always. The one with a fire. I don't understand what it means."

"You don't have to understand, kiddo," I whisper, going over to stand in front of him. "I've told you, it's from when your house burned down. Did you see the man who did it this time?"

He shakes his head. "No. I never do. I only see fire, and Momo is screaming, and everything is burning, and then I wake up and my head hurts like it's splitting open…"

Fire.

Burning.

An idea begins to form.

I wrap my arms around the boy, careful not to jostle his head. "Don't be afraid. You're safe here, I promise."

"Thanks, Obake," he mumbles, pulling away. "I'll go back to bed. I don't want to bother you."

"You're not bothering me, kiddo. Sleep well."

He disappears back down the hallway, and I turn to my android, my mind racing into overdrive. I know what to do.

I feel a twinge of guilt, but I know it has to be done. This is for the greater good. For the future.

For Momo.

"I have an idea, Trina," I whisper. "And you and Shuto are going to help me."