Love Doesn’t Need Pretenders

The group sat around a long, glossy table at "Flying Plates" the finest floating restaurant in the district. 

The cityscape stretched below them in glittering spirals of light, but the focus of the night was on the delicacies that hovered elegantly a few inches above their plates.

Neon stared at her dish, some kind of glowing blue pasta that was gently bobbing mid-air, as though unsure whether to stay or make a run for it. “You know,” she said, squinting, “I can’t decide if this is food or if I’m about to eat the restaurant’s WiP-Fi signal.”

Layla chuckled. “It’s food. Probably.”

Luke nudged Neon. “Just try it. You’ve survived worse.”

Neon raised her fork, trying to stab at the pasta, but it gracefully dodged her like a skilled boxer. She gave it another try, then sighed in exasperation. “You’d think, in the year of our tech overlords 3002, we’d have figured out how to make food stay still.”

Ash, ever the problem-solver, tilted his head. “Actually, the technology is based on anti-gravity algorithms that...”

“...Nobody asked, Ash,” Neon interrupted with a smile, tossing a roll in his direction.

Ash caught it mid-air with one hand, cool as ever.

 Layla clapped. “See? This is why I keep him around. He’s like a walking tutorial.”

Ash gave a small, smug smile, but his ears turned a little red.

Mark, seated at the end of the table, chuckled quietly. He’d been quieter than usual tonight, though his laughter came more easily these days. Still, he was watching, observing, as always. His friends were happy, happier than he could remember them being in a long time. That thought warmed him, but it also left a bittersweet ache.

Neon, meanwhile, decided to exact her revenge on the rebellious pasta by plunging her fork into it with dramatic flair. The force knocked her dish off its hover-track, and the glowing pasta shot into the air like a small, edible comet.

“Uh Oh Nouh” Luke said, just before the pasta splattered across his shirt in a streak of neon blue.

The table fell silent for a second before bursting into laughter. Even Mark cracked a genuine smile as Luke glared at Neon. “You did that on purpose.”

“Me?” Neon gasped, feigning innocence. “Luke, I would never” She snorted mid-sentence. “Okay, maybe I would.”

Layla leaned over to Ash. “She’s going to get us kicked out.”

Ash looked at Neon, who was now trying to clean Luke’s shirt with a napkin while giggling uncontrollably. “Statistically speaking, there’s an 87% chance of that happening, yes.”

“What about the other 13%?” Layla asked.

“That’s reserved for even more catastrophic outcomes.”

Sure enough, things spiraled quickly. In trying to help Luke, Neon accidentally knocked over another plate, sending a glob of glowing sauce hurtling toward Mark. He dodged it with surprising agility, and the glob instead hit a nearby table, where a pair of diners stared in shock.

“Ooopsies,” Neon said, biting her lip. “Okay, everybody act natural, act normal.”

“Define ‘natural,’” Luke said dryly, wiping his shirt again.

As if on cue, one of the hovering serving drones zipped over to assess the chaos. Its robotic voice chirped, “Disturbance detected. Please remain seated while corrective measures are initiated.”

“Oh, we’re so getting banned,” Neon muttered, but she looked more amused than worried.

“Not if we leave now,” Ash said, ever the pragmatist. He stood up, grabbed Layla’s hand, and motioned for the others. “Move.”

They stumbled out of the restaurant, half-laughing, half-hiding from the hovering drones that were undoubtedly scanning for their identities. Once outside, they leaned against a sleek metal railing overlooking the city, catching their breath.

“That,” Layla said between laughs, “was a disaster.”

“A glorious disaster,” Neon corrected.

Luke shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Neon shot back, winking at him.

Mark leaned against the railing, watching the interaction with a faint smile. He didn’t feel the usual small amount of jealousy tonight. Instead, he felt... content, in a strange way. Luke was good for Neon. He could see that. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to be okay with it.

As the group’s laughter died down, they fell into quieter conversations.

Layla turned to Ash. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Mad? No,” Ash replied. “Annoyed? Maybe little.” But the way he looked at her softened the words. “I’d put up with worse for you.”

Layla blinked, then smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You’re problematic.”

“I’m pragmatic,” Ash corrected. “And yes, I care about you. A lot.”

Neon pretended to gag. “Ugh, get a room, you two.”

Layla smirked. “Jealous?”

“Please,” Neon said, rolling her eyes. “I’m too busy being the comic relief of this tragicomedy.”

Luke nudged her. “You’re more than that, you know.”

She glanced at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. For once, she didn’t have a snarky comeback.

The moment lingered for a second before Mark broke it by clapping his hands. “So, what’s next? Are we trying another restaurant, or is this night officially over?”

Neon smirked. “You’re the Pretender, Mark. You tell us.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “The what?”

“Oh, come on,” Neon said, leaning against the railing. “You’ve got that whole mysterious, brooding thing going on. But we all know you’re just pretending to be okay.”

Mark opened his mouth to argue, but then he paused. “Fair enough,” he said finally, surprising her.

Neon smiled. “See? Progress.”

Luke shook his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, sticking around,” Neon shot back, sticking out her tongue.

“Someone has to keep you out of trouble,” Luke said, his tone softer than his words.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I guess someone does.”

The group decided to end the night with a quiet hoverboard ride along the city’s edge. The air was crisp, the neon lights reflecting off the water below as they glided effortlessly through the night.

At one point, Neon and Luke found themselves a little ahead of the others. She slowed down, letting her board hover in place as she looked out at the city.

“You know,” she said, her voice lighter than usual, “this is nice. Almost makes me forget how much of a mess everything’s been lately.”

Luke stopped beside her. “It’s okay to feel that way. You’ve been through a lot.”

Neon glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “You’re pretty good at this whole ‘being supportive’ thing. Did you take a class or something?”

“It’s called ‘being a decent human being.’ You should try it sometime.”

She laughed, and for a moment, the weight of everything seemed to lift.

Then, as if on impulse, Neon stepped off her board and extended her hand to him. “Dance with me.”

Luke blinked. “Here? Now?”

“Why not?” she said, her eyes daring him.

He hesitated for a second, then took her hand. 

As they moved, Neon looked up at him, her usual snark replaced by something softer. “You know,” she said quietly, “I don’t hate this.”

Luke smiled. “Me neither.”

Behind them, the rest of the group watched, their conversations fading into silence. Mark’s gaze lingered a little longer, a small, wistful smile on his lips.

For once, he wasn’t pretending.