I´d Be Sad If You Die

Aria was eight years old again.

The echoes of her own heavy breathing filled the hall. The faint smell of perfume and old parchment clung to the air. She looked down at her scraped knuckles, the sting of the fresh bruise already setting in.

The doors creaked open, and two guards rushed in, only to pause at the sight of her. She felt no fear. Instead, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin, defiant. Her father’s voice came, calm but firm. “Aria.”

She turned and followed him into the other room, her feet dragging against the polished floor.

The study was lined with bookshelves reaching the ceiling, filled with history and philosophy. Things she never had the patience for. Her father stood by the window, looking out over the palace gardens before finally turning to her.

“They were making fun of me,” she said before he could speak. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s right,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Aria. You were just upset.”

“I wasn’t upset.” She clenched her fists. “Those boys bully weak kids because they’re weak. But I’m not a weakling. I just taught them that.”

Her father sighed and knelt before her, meeting her at eye level. “Did you think that hitting them was the solution?”

“They would’ve hit me if I hadn’t hit them first.”

A faint smile flickered at his lips. “You certainly are strong, Aria. But violence is unacceptable. People who are truly strong don’t hurt others.” He reached out, taking her small hands in his own. His palms were calloused but warm.

“These hands of yours aren’t meant to hurt people.”

She frowned. 

“They´re for holding other people’s hands,” he said softly. “For comforting them, for helping them stand when they fall. One day, you will be queen, my dear. And I want you to use these hands to hold another person, to console, to embrace. Promise me that, will you?”

Aria swallowed hard. The weight of his words settled deep within her chest. But before she could respond—

Darkness swallowed the scene whole.

Aria jolted awake, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

For a moment, she was still caught in the remnants of the dream. Her father’s voice, his warmth, it all slipped away too fast. Then reality settled in, and she blinked, taking in her surroundings.

A strange, shimmering barrier surrounded them, humming faintly in the dark. Its translucent glow cast soft, flickering light over the landscape outside, as if forming a fragile cocoon against the world beyond. The air inside the bubble was still, quiet, untouched by the cold wind that howled faintly outside its perimeter. 

It felt… safe, in a way that made her wary.

A weight pressed lightly against her shoulder. A steady warmth. The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of someone’s breath.

She turned her head slightly, and her stomach flipped.

Neon was leaning against her, his head resting against her shoulder, his face unusually peaceful in sleep. His usual sharp-edged presence was dulled, his expression softer than she had ever seen it. His slightly furrowed brows, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the faint line of tension still lingering in his jaw, even in unconsciousness.

A deep, sudden heat rushed to her face.

Her first instinct was to jerk away, to push him off immediately. But the moment she started to move, his weight shifted. He began to slump forward, his body tilting dangerously off balance.

Without thinking, she caught him.

Her hands moved before her mind could catch up, fingers grazing the side of his face as she steadied him. His skin was warmer than she expected. For a second, her breath hitched, and she could feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing beneath her fingertips.

Her heart pounded wildly. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she let herself settle back down.

She let him stay.

She didn’t know why.

She could have pushed him away—should have—but instead, she adjusted slightly, allowing his head to rest more comfortably against her shoulder. The warmth of him was unfamiliar, distracting, and yet… she didn’t move.

For a long, long moment, she just watched him.

It was a strange feeling, sitting like this. Just existing. Just being still.

“I can tell when I’m being stared at,” Neon murmured slowly, voice low and drowsy.

Aria stiffened. A jolt of shock ran through her body, and she instinctively shoved him away, though not too roughly.

“Y-you—!” she stammered, turning away sharply, her face burning.

Neon groaned softly, stretching his arms above his head. He smirked slightly, voice still heavy with sleep. “Good morning to you too, princess.”

Aria exhaled sharply, forcing herself to push past her lingering embarrassment. She crossed her arms, forcing her gaze toward the barrier instead. “What is this thing?” she asked, her voice almost too sharp as she gestured to the strange, glowing dome around them.

Neon tapped the air beside him, and the translucent energy shimmered in response. “A protective field,” he explained. “I can create barriers like this to deflect attacks or form shields. Unfortunately, they can’t be too big, so we had to sleep close.”

Her face flamed again. “Tch.” She turned away, glaring at the ground.

Neon’s smirk faded, and his expression grew serious. “The more important thing, though… You came to heal me last night during battle.” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. 

“You were already injured. Why would you do that?”

Aria hesitated. She pressed her lips together, unsure if she wanted to say it aloud. But finally, she answered. “After my father´s death, I just want to save the lives that haven’t been lost yet.”

“And you’d keep throwing yourself in danger for that?”

She met his gaze, unwavering. “If I have to.”

He exhaled through his nose, looking frustrated. “Oh please. If you don’t think *your* life is worth more than someone else’s, then you’re an absolute idiot and you should kill yourself right now.”

Aria’s eyes widened, stunned. The words cut deep, deeper than she expected. Her breath caught in her throat, and he instantly looked regretful.

Neon’s expression shifted immediately. His own breath hitched, as if realizing too late the impact of what he had just said.

“Listen,” he said quickly, his voice softer now, almost urgent. “As brave as you are, you aren’t immortal.” His hands curled into fists, as if he were fighting some inner battle of his own. 

His eyes met hers, steady, unreadable. Then, his voice softened further. “Just… don’t be so reckless, please? I don’t think your actions are right, but…” He swallowed. “I’ll be sad if you die.”

Aria’s fingers trembled slightly. She absorbed his words, holding onto them, as if trying to make sense of them.

Then, finally, she spoke. “Then teach me.”

Neon blinked. “What?”

She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes sharp and unwavering. “Then teach me. If you trust me, then I trust you. Teach me to fight like you.”

He hesitated. He studied her, as if searching for something. Then, slowly, he nodded. 

“Alright.”

They both stood, the protective barrier flickering out as Neon deactivated it. The cold wind rushed back in, ruffling their hair, biting against their skin. In the distance, the neon city lights pulsed like a heartbeat, calling them back.

Together, they stood and began walking toward the distant neon skyline.

Neon glanced at her. His voice was quieter, thoughtful.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I think you will one day become an incredible warrior. And a gentle queen.”

Aria didn’t answer right away. But her fingers curled slightly, remembering the warmth of her father’s hands.

For the first time in a long time, she let herself believe it.