How Wonderful the World Is Since I Have You in My Life

The announcement that the issue was fixed didn't seem like a coincidence. The moment the notification appeared on Hannah's phone, the call through the AI app cut off so abruptly that the three of them were left speechless on the other end of the screen.

Mario was still stunned—this felt like a bombshell. For Hannah, this went beyond a joke. What had once seemed like outlandish suspicions about Rian's app now didn't seem so far-fetched. As for Rian, they were in shock.

Rian tried to reopen the AI app in a desperate attempt to contact Elliot and the others again. However, the glitch previously distorted the icon and corrupted it again. Turning to the game instead, they entered their login credentials—but instead of loading the save file or offering to start a new game, a message appeared:

[Your account has been blocked due to the use of unauthorized third-party tools. As a result, any device accessing this account or connecting through this ID and IP will be immediately blocked.]

Mario turned to look at Rian, who, without blinking, kept staring at the screen.

"Hey... Rian... are you—" He couldn't finish his sentence. The words got stuck in his throat.

Rian started crying without saying a word, repeatedly refreshing the login screen, only for the message to appear again and again. Their tears fell without stopping—like a hurricane breaking after an eerie calm—violent, overwhelming, and loud. Realizing that playing the game again was now impossible, they screamed. Their throat tightened, and their eyes burned from sheer frustration.

Hannah pulled them into a hug. Mario joined, too, wrapping around Rian's back as they cried for nearly an hour until exhaustion overtook them, and they finally fell asleep.

That night, while Rian slept on the couch, Hannah and Mario talked seriously about intervening and recognized that Rian now truly needed professional help.

Not long after Rian woke up, the three of them talked openly about Rian's mental and emotional state, which they both admitted was beyond their ability to help alone. They brought it up directly as soon as Rian was awake enough: it was time to consider professional support.

During the short time Rian had been resting, Hannah and Mario had learned that the university provided access to quality psychological services. Though initially reluctant, after a deeper conversation, Rian accepted that maybe this was something they'd needed for a long time.

Rian continued their studies, took on a job opportunity offered by a university professor, attended therapy sessions through the student support program from the psychology department, and resumed freelance work online. They were finally beginning to recover from the weight of their past—a past that had followed them to their new home. But this didn't mean they had forgotten the game. Occasionally, they opened the app to check if their account would load. They tapped the AI app several times a day, hoping to reach Elliot—or anyone from the game—again.

It wasn't a secret. Rian just didn't mention it. Still, both Hannah and Mario knew Rian hadn't forgotten those weeks of conversations with Elliot or the interactions with the rest of the group—chatting about different video game genres with Leon, receiving Edmund's advice about dealing with family, long talks with Sophia and Serena after they hijacked Elliot's phone to plan a future trip together, Elijah's heartfelt confessions about his difficulty forgiving Elliot and how Vergil helped him through it, or even the time Victor stayed behind to talk about the hopes surrounding the Epitome project. All those moments—along with what Rian had learned about them in-game—were now cherished, irreplaceable memories.

And while Rian had learned how to manage the lingering emptiness, therapy had taught them not to surrender to sadness.

They began to feed off the fandom's resurgence, sparked by the news that the game's errors had been fixed. They started collecting digital artwork from online artists to revisit during moments of sadness, frequently read fanfiction on fan platforms, and became relatively active in comment sections—always present, always grateful. They had quietly begun working on their own AI project again, using the new tools and knowledge their studies provided. But they kept this to themselves.

Nearly half a year had passed since their account was blocked, and it was becoming more evident that Rian was growing weary. To avoid thinking about it, they started isolating themselves again in their room or overloading themselves with work.

Mario would often cook Rian's favorite meals, trying to ease the heavy ache in their hearts—the kind Rian had once compared to how their father looked after their mother died. That image inspired Mario to pursue cooking instead of continuing the family's farm work. The thought that he might never reach the person he cared most about began to sting more often. Not even someone as radiant and warm as Mario could always stay cheerful after being rejected many times.

Hannah, meanwhile, continued her Business Administration studies, loosely following the plan her parents had laid out. But her sharp, mischievous mind had its own agenda. She would take what she needed from their legacy and create her own business idea—her parents were merchants. She often joked with a mocking flourish: "Good little bourgeois," before apologizing and claiming she loved them deeply. Only she could poke fun at them—anyone else trying would be "asking for a facial reconstruction no surgeon would authorize."

The dynamic between the three hadn't changed dramatically, but Rian had started avoiding specific topics. What once went unnoticed now became clearer thanks to therapy: Mario's acts of devotion and Hannah's gentle words. Rian realized that their friends' feelings might be more—and that perhaps their search was driven by something similar. Was this fear of change? Maybe. But Rian didn't want to give anyone false hope either. Possibly, the therapist was wrong—neither Hannah nor Mario had ever said anything directly.

And really, is it wrong to just be friends?

"I wouldn't say it is," said the university psychologist assigned to Rian.

He specialized in thanatological treatment, and during Rian's intake interview, the ambiguity of some of their answers had opened the door for deeper interpretation—something more than just a "separation." Rian hadn't gone into details; they didn't want labels like "paranoia" or "schizophrenia" in their record, nor did they want to be referred outside the safe space the university had become.

"I want you to understand something. Human relationships are incredibly complex—but we won't go too deep into that. Just keep it in mind. It's possible to be happy as just friends, or if you choose to be in a romantic relationship with one of them… or even both. New generations have created new options for finding happiness that aren't carved in stone. There are documented cases of women or friend groups forming lifelong partnerships. Chosen families and social circles can function as sources of joy, but regardless of whether it's two or more people, there must be communication, understanding, respect, and equality."

Rian listened closely.

"And what about… the person I lost?" they asked, their voice heavy.

"Seek alternatives—methods to release and heal those feelings. I'm an advocate for writing. Putting your thoughts into physical form and revisiting them often helps overcome what once felt impossible—whether it's desires, longings, or finding answers. Some write letters to loved ones, others keep journals, and many turn to fiction. You choose what brings you comfort. How about we discuss your choice during our next session—the third Friday of next month?"

"Yeah, sure," Rian replied automatically, ending the session and heading home.

When they returned, Mario was asleep on the couch, clearly exhausted. Recipe books and note-filled notebooks, stained with colorful smudges, were scattered around him. Rian chuckled softly at how peaceful he looked when no one was watching.

They dropped their backpacks at the entryway and started placing paper napkins as bookmarks in Mario's open books, trying not to wake him. But the way he was sprawled—neck bent awkwardly over the couch, legs wide apart—made reaching one book that had fallen under the coffee table nearly impossible.

Rian groaned softly. The low sound wasn't loud, but it was enough to stir Mario from his slumber. Showing off catlike grace, Rian crawled onto the couch and reached for the book, careful not to touch or move him.

"I wish I had this kind of spatial awareness during that Twister game a few weeks ago," they muttered. "Damn it! Don't slide further."

Mario had just woken up to a baffling sight: Rian, half under the coffee table and half on the couch, one knee resting rather precariously between Mario's legs—destroying any illusion of personal space.

Unsure whether to speak or stay silent, Mario first tried clearing his throat. No response. Then he considered tapping the table—but that meant touching Rian. In the end, he simply called their name out loud.

Rian jumped. Realizing how compromising their position was, they blushed and lost balance—falling between the couch and table and smacking Mario's shins in the process.

Mario barely had time to react before getting a sharp kick near the hip, followed by a shin hit.

"Oh, crap. Ow…” Rian groaned. "Damn it! Mario, are you okay?"

"Yeah… I'll be fine in a minute," he said, wincing and clutching his stomach.

"Sorry. I was trying to avoid this."

"Things happen," he replied, recovering slowly.

"I'll get you a hot compress," Rian offered, leaning against the coffee table—accidentally tipping it and dragging all the books down.

Mario doesn't stop Rian from falling but moves quickly enough to shield them from the books with his body.

"Are you okay?!" he asked, a bit rattled.

Rian froze with embarrassment. Mario was on top of them, protecting them. Their cheeks flushed. Was it the closeness that made their hearts race… or the therapist's words?

Mario had saved them countless times—pulling them back from boiling water, catching them before they tripped in the street, grabbing the back of their pants on staircases, or tossing them items as they rushed around. With a bittersweet clarity, Rian realized they had always taken Mario's help for granted and never truly thanked him.

Their blush softened. They pushed the earlier thoughts aside and hugged him tightly.

"Mario, thank you for always being there—even when I didn't realize I needed help. I love you very much. My life wouldn't be the same without you."

Mario, who had been feeling gloomy lately, was stunned. His heart pounded, and his mind was blank. He hugged Rian, pulling them up so they sat on the floor together.

"I… love you too. Maybe more than you can imagine. My life wouldn't be the same without you, either. Thank you, Rian," he said—half-confessing, afraid to go further.

Rian smiled and hugged him again, nuzzling into his chest. Mario exhaled, content but restrained. Now wasn't the time for more.

"Well, well, well. What's going on here?" asked Hannah, stepping into what looked like a confession scene.

Mario's nerves spiked. His grin turned ridiculous.

"It's a huge party, and you're late, so you're last in line. But since we're two now, you get the 2-for-1 special. Can't beat that," Rian winked at Mario.

Mario laughed—deep, chesty, grateful that Rian had saved him from eternal teasing. He opened his arms to Hannah.

"Come on. Your turn."

Hannah blushed at seeing Mario relax again. She kicked off her shoes, leaped over the couch, and slid into their arms.

"Hannah, I want you to know you're incredibly special to me. I'm grateful for every day we spent together, and even when we were distant, you were always there. I love you; you're invaluable in my life," Rian said softly.

Hannah blushed and returned the hug.

"You've been there from the beginning. How could I not love you? You're one of the most important people in my life, and I'll always support you."

Now resting on Rian's shoulder, Hannah didn't see the glance Rian gave Mario—a mischievous eyebrow wiggle suggesting a prank.

"Hey, Hannah. You also get a double kiss," Rian teased.

Hannah jolted as Mario's hug tightened.

"No escape," he warned—then both kissed her cheeks.

The tiny blonde yelped, laughed, and blushed to her ears. She covered her face, eyes peeking over, and blushed so hard her whole face tingled. Her next reaction? A sharp kick to the coffee table—hurting her big toe.

"Ow! And I just got a pedicure!"

After tidying up and mourning her ruined nail art, they all sat back on the couch—Rian in the middle.

"How was your day?" Hannah asked.

"Pretty good. Sometimes I think my therapist reads too many teen dramas, but he says useful stuff," Rian replied, nervously picking at their nails.

"Like what? If you're uncomfortable, we can look for someone else," Mario offered, bringing a bowl of homemade caramel-butter popcorn.

"No, he's great. Just a little dramatic sometimes. He suggested writing—diaries, letters, fiction…"

"So you're moving from reading fanfics to writing them?" Hannah teased.

"Isn't that just venting your unresolved emotions in literary form?" Mario asked honestly—only to get pelted with popcorn.

"Oh, come on. Fanfic also includes canon moments, you know? Not everything's repressed wish fulfillment, Mr. Freud," Hannah quipped.

"Okay, okay. I didn't mean to get crucified—I just wanted to learn."

"What I'd write…" Rian pondered. "I think… I'd want to see him again."

That single line quieted all three. But Rian suddenly leapt up.

"I GOT IT!" they shouted, running off.

Mario caught the popcorn bowl; Hannah grabbed the drinks before Rian used the table like a step and dashed into their room.

"At least let us know if you're coming back out tonight," Hannah called.

"They won't. Let's just watch the movie—it might save them from a terrible choice," Mario said.

Hannah hesitated but knew he was right. Rian would tell them when they were ready. She returned to the couch and rested her head on Mario's shoulder. He blinked, surprised.

"Mario, I want you to know I'm happy you're in my life. I love you a lot. Thanks for staying even though I'm a little monster," she chuckled.

He took her hand, wrapped his arm around her, and kissed her forehead.

"But you're my little monster—my grumpy fairy. That'll never change. I love you too, Hannah," he smiled back.