Trying to Mean It

Roy hadn't expected to enjoy himself that much. Between the same clothes from yesterday, rumpled and faintly stale, and the quiet, persistent pressure of uncertainty sitting somewhere behind his ribs, this should have been a tense, distracted kind of day. The sort where everything felt slightly off, like walking with a stone in your shoe you couldn’t quite shake loose.

Instead, he was having fun. Actual, genuine fun.

Zara moved through her apartment like it was a stage she knew by heart, energy spilling out of her in bright, unpredictable bursts. One minute she was halfway across the room, crouched beside a shelf, the next she was back in front of him with something cradled carefully in her hands.

"Okay, so this... this is important," she announced, holding up a small, meticulously painted figurine like it was a museum piece. "This is my first fully completed army commander. Like, fully. Based, highlighted, everything. Do you see the edge work on the armour?"

Roy leaned in, squinting slightly, trying to follow where she was pointing. "The, uh, lighter blue along the edges?"

Her face lit up. "Yes! That! That's edge highlighting. It's supposed to make it pop more, give it depth, like light's hitting it. It took me forever to get that right without making it look like I just scribbled on it with a crayon."

He nodded, genuinely impressed despite himself. "It's really good. Like, I wouldn't even know where to start with something like that."

"I watched, like, twelve tutorials," she admitted cheerfully. "And messed up at least three minis before this one. But that's part of it! Iteration. Failure. Growth. You know, the whole hero's journey, but with tiny plastic soldiers."

A laugh slipped out of him before he could stop it.

Later, she had him on the couch, legs tucked under her, talking at a speed that should have been exhausting but somehow wasn't.

"So the show starts off kind of slow, but that's intentional," she insisted, waving a hand as if conducting her own argument. "It's all world-building. You need that foundation. Otherwise when the big emotional stuff hits, you're like, okay, cool, but why do I care? And I care. I care so much. There's an episode in season two where, no spoilers, but I had to pause it and just, you know, process. Like, physically stand up and walk around my apartment."

Roy watched her more than he listened at that point. The way her hands moved when she got excited. The way her voice lifted and dipped. The way she kept checking his face, just briefly, to see if he was still with her.

He was.

More than he expected he would be.

By the time they settled on lunch, the apartment felt smaller in a good way. Lived-in. Shared.

"I'm setting up Catan," Zara declared, already halfway to the table. "Have you played before?"

"I've heard of it," Roy said, moving toward the kitchen. "That count?"

"It counts as a starting point," she called back. "We'll build from there."

Bread, meat, cheese; simple ingredients laid out on the counter. His hands moved on autopilot, assembling sandwiches while his attention drifted between the task and the living room.

Zara leaned over the table, placing hexagonal tiles with careful consideration, occasionally rearranging them with a small frown before settling on a configuration that satisfied whatever internal system she was working from. Sunlight caught in her hair, traced the curve of her shoulders, the line of her back. She was beautiful.

A tightness coiled low in his stomach. Time. It felt like someone standing just behind him, close enough that he could almost feel their breath. Not touching, not interfering, just... there. Waiting.

Roy swallowed, focusing on the knife in his hand, the clean line of the cut through bread. If this worked, if his theory held, then what he'd done so far mattered. The conversations. The time. The effort to see her, really see her, beyond what the wish was pushing them toward.

He liked her. That much was undeniable. In another version of his life, one without magic, without interference, someone like Zara might have remained firmly outside his orbit. Too bright. Too different. Too... everything.

And yet, standing here now, watching her rearrange tiny wooden roads with intense concentration, it was easy to imagine a different path. One where he'd met her anyway. Where he'd found the nerve to talk. Where she'd actually been interested.

A small, almost disbelieving smile tugged at his mouth.

Yeah. He could have fallen for her.

Easily.

Which made the pressure in his chest shift into something sharper.

Roy's encounter with Varoonth came to mind, unhelpful as ever. For someone handing out life-altering magic, the man had been frustratingly vague. No rules. No guidance. Just a shrug dressed up as philosophy.

Still, there was one advantage. The bar existed. Varoonth existed. Roy wasn't completely alone in this.

He'd go back. Later today, maybe. Tonight at the latest. Sit down, ask questions, push a little harder this time. Even if the answers were useless, at least it would feel like doing something.

"Okay!" Zara announced, straightening up. "Board is ready. Settlements pending. Destiny awaits."

Roy turned, sandwiches in hand, and nearly lost his train of thought entirely.

At some point while he'd been making lunch, she'd slipped back to her bedroom and changed. Gone were the barely-there scraps from earlier. In their place: yellow short-shorts that clung in ways that made him blush, paired with a thin, white spaghetti-strapped top that did very little to hide anything. Skin caught the light everywhere: arms, legs, the curve of her collarbone.

Casual, technically.

Dangerous, in practice.

She dropped into her chair, crossing one leg over the other with a kind of **** precision that made the movement feel deliberate. Or maybe he was reading into it. Probably not.

"Food delivery!" she said brightly, leaning forward as he approached. "You're my favourite person right now."

"Good to know my ranking is secure," Roy muttered, setting the plates down.

"Top tier," she confirmed. "S-rank boyfriend behaviour."

He sat, forcing his attention back to the table, to the game pieces, to anything that wasn't the way she looked sitting across from him.

"Do you want the full rules explanation," she asked, already reaching for the instruction booklet, "or the chaos version where we just start playing and you learn through consequences?"

"Let’s try the full version," he said. "Minimize damage."

"Wise choice."

She flipped the booklet open, clearing her throat dramatically. "Alright. In the world of Catan..."

A knock cut through her sentence. Sharp. Unexpected.

Roy's body reacted before his thoughts caught up, a jolt of tension snapping through him. His head turned toward the door, pulse kicking up a notch. He knew the consequence of seeing another woman right then, that Zara had already given him a blowjob, that the wish had most likely activated. They needed to be alone, at least a little longer. He needed to be sure.

Zara, on the other hand, lit up.

"Oh!" She was already on her feet, chair scraping lightly against the floor. "That's just my friend Iris. You're going to love her!"

Roy's stomach dropped.

"Zara... wait..." he started, but she was already moving.

Too fast. Too eager.

And just like that, whatever careful balance he'd been trying to maintain tilted sharply off centre as she reached for the door.