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Colette felt sick to her stomach. Her legs, crossed on the grassy ground, were shaking slightly, and her teeth chattered. The former Chosen couldn’t think of any reason for her dizziness. She had rehearsed the conversation that was about to begin more times than she could count, knowing exactly what to say for every possible outcome. In her head, it had always been so simple.

It wasn’t as if she was worried about whether Lloyd returned her feelings. She was sure that even if he didn’t want to have that kind of relationship with her, he would still remain her friend. He wasn’t the type to abandon her over a simple disagreement.

Then why was it that the second she said, “Lloyd, there’s something I need to tell you,” she started to have trouble breathing?

Lloyd, on the other hand, had a reason to be worried. Ever since the journey of world regeneration, he had come to expect the worst when it came to Colette. His automatic thoughts were those of Angel Toxicosis, pain, and loss.

Settling down beside Colette, Lloyd wrapped a caring arm around his companion, praying that nothing was wrong, that he wouldn’t have to lose her again. “What is it?” he asked in a voice full of concern.

Colette was then reliving memories of muteness. As she tried to make words escape her lips, nothing but air came out, creating a foggy substance in the cold atmosphere. It was all too familiar.

Then, the memories brought an idea to her, like a cruel muse. She would simply do the same as she had done almost a year ago, when her voice was taken away from her for what she thought would be the rest of her life. Taking Lloyd’s hand in her own, she turned the palm to face the starry night sky, unknowingly worrying him more.

Lloyd softly read aloud as Colette traced the letters, 'I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.'

Colette didn’t change her position, afraid to take her eyes off of the pair of hands, until Lloyd gently put his free hand under her chin, lifting her face up until her eyes met his own. Maybe it was her imagination, but Colette could have sworn she saw a glint in his eyes, as if he were trying not to cry.

If this was indeed Colette’s imagination, it must have been very vivid, because at this point, something wet was visible on Lloyd’s cheek, and she knew it wasn’t raining. He wore a bittersweet smile. Upset that she had made her friend sad, she wanted to say, “I’m sorry, Lloyd! Please don’t cry!” but something halted her apology.

Lloyd was kissing her.

And then, in a voice somewhere between a whisper and actual speech, she could hear him saying. “I love you, too.”