Is This a Romantic Plot Twist

Mark leaned back in his chair, the heavy, raw riffs of an old Bad Omens track washing over him. The bass line thrummed through his chest as he closed his eyes, letting the music carry him somewhere else, somewhere simpler. His fingers idly sketched on the holopad in front of him, the shapes coming alive in hues of deep red and black.

Art had always been his escape. Today was no different. He shaded the edges of a figure, his hand steady despite the rapid tempo of the music. He didn’t think too much about what he was drawing, but somehow, the form took on familiar features. Her face. Her smile.

Mark sighed, leaning back to take a better look at his work. Neon. It wasn’t the first time she’d ended up on his canvas lately. He’d been spending more time with her and with Luke. It was good, better than he thought it would be. The laughter, the banter, the ease of their little group. But every time she laughed at one of Luke’s jokes or leaned into his arm, Mark felt something stir in his chest. Something he didn’t know what to do with.

For the first time in years, Mark felt… lighter. Not entirely, but enough to notice the shift. He wasn’t pretending as much anymore. Around them, he could let his guard down. A little.

He glanced at the clock. There was still time to finish his sketch before meeting the others.

Over the next few days, Neon and Luke were inseparable. It started with a simple outing to the hover arcade. Luke had suggested it, promising to teach Neon how to master the anti-gravity racing pods.

Neon had been skeptical at first, but by the end of the night, she was screaming with laughter, narrowly beating Luke in the final race. “You totally let me win!” she accused, pointing at him as they walked out.

“I did no such thing. You’re just naturally talented.”

“Yeah, talented at being a sore winner,” she shot back, but the smile on her face betrayed her.

The next day, Luke showed up at her place with tickets to an old-school movie projection. They sat in the dimly lit theater, surrounded by other couples, sharing a tub of synthetic popcorn. Luke had leaned in during one of the quieter moments, whispering a joke so ridiculous that Neon choked on her drink, earning them both glares from the audience.

“You’re the worst,” she whispered, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

“And yet you keep inviting me out,” he replied, his voice low and warm.

Day after that Neon stared at the vending machine like it had personally insulted her. “Why does it hate me? I just want my snack.”

Luke leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Maybe it’s not the machine. Maybe it’s you.”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t shove you into this thing,” Neon shot back, pressing buttons randomly.

“Yeah, because violence always solves problems.” Luke shook his head. “Want me to try?”

“No. I’m winning this battle.” She gave the machine a solid kick.

It beeped, then spat out a bag of chips.

 “Impressive. You’ve mastered the ancient art of vending machine intimidation.”

Neon grabbed the chips, holding them up like a trophy. “Who’s the queen? That’s right. Me.”

“Queen of snacks and acting,” Luke said, snatching the chips from her.

“Excuse me?” Neon lunged to grab them back.

“Sharing is caring,” Luke teased, holding the bag just out of reach.

“Oh, I care. I care deeply about watching you suffer,” Neon replied, trying to wrestle the bag from his hands.

They both burst out laughing when the bag tore open, scattering chips everywhere.

Luke looked at the mess, then at Neon. “Well, at least you won the battle. Lost the war, though.”

Neon grabbed a chip off the floor and popped it in her mouth. “Still tastes like victory.”

Few days passed, and something had shifted for Neon. She was walking home after a long evening with Luke, her cheeks still flushed from the cold night air or maybe from the way he’d looked at her when he said goodbye.

She paused in front of her door, her hand hovering over the handle. Do I… like him?

It wasn’t a question she’d allowed herself to entertain before. But now, with all their shared moments playing on a loop in her mind, she couldn’t deny it anymore. She liked Luke. A lot. Maybe even... she shook her head, unwilling to finish the thought.

Neon wasn’t sure how to deal with these feelings. Luke had been a constant, steady presence in her life, especially since Simon’s escape. And now, she was terrified of ruining what they had.

Mark noticed the change in her. He always noticed.

The five of them were hanging out at dimly lit café with low tables and beanbags scattered around. Neon and Luke were seated close together, laughing about something. Layla and Ash were off in their own little world, as usual.

Mark sipped his drink, watching the scene unfold. Everyone looked happy, and for once, he didn’t feel left out. But there was still a small, nagging part of him that couldn’t let go of what he felt for Neon.

Later that week, he asked her to meet him for coffee. Just the two of them.

Neon showed up a little late, as usual, her blue hair slightly messy from the wind. She plopped into the seat across from him with a smile. “ Yoo what’s up, Marky? You looked serious in your message. Did you finally decide to join a hovering motorcycle gang?”

Mark chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not quite.” He took a sip of his coffee, gathering his thoughts.

Neon tilted her head. “Okay, now you’re worrying me. What’s going on?”

He looked at her, really looked at her. For a moment, he considered backing out. But he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Neon,” he began, his voice steady but soft, “I need to tell you something.”

Her smile faded as she leaned forward, her brow furrowed.

“I…” He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I have for a while.”

Neon froze, her eyes wide, the playful banter that usually danced between them nowhere to be found.

Mark forced a small smile. “I just wanted you to know.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.