Sneak Peak - Friend!Crush Sol route

[A brief sneak peek of the next update I'm currently working on. The scene happened in the past, and it sheds light on their dynamic with a Death who is terrible at hiding their crush ;)]

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Your breath catches in your throat, words dissolving before they can form. Sol's proximity—warm, solid, unbearably present—seems to short-circuit your thoughts, leaving your mind blank and your body paralyzed. Your pulse, normally slow and measured, stutters into something quicker, something alive. You're certain he must feel it—the betraying rhythm thrumming beneath your skin, the way your shoulders tense ever so slightly against his solid chest. The realization sends a flush of unfamiliar heat creeping up your essence.

The soul cradled in your fingers trembles in response to the sudden shift in the air, its ethereal form rippling like disturbed water. It senses what you refuse to acknowledge.

Then, something deep within you uncoils—a serpent of emotion long kept dormant, now striking with terrifying precision. Its fangs sink into your resolve, venom spreading fast: a heady, intoxicating ache that threatens to unravel you. Panic surges, sharp and instinctive.

You flee.

Dissolving into shadow is second nature. In an instant, your form wavers, flesh turning to mist, and the light passes through you as if you were nothing more than smoke. The familiar numbness of intangibility settles over you, muting the warmth of his touch, the weight of his presence. You drift backward, putting the dark pool and its swirling vortex of souls between you and Sol—between you and whatever just happened.

Across the room, Sol stumbles forward, nearly losing his balance when your body vanishes from beneath him. He catches himself at the last second, reflexes honed by centuries of divine grace saving him from an undignified fall. When he straightens, his expression is a mix of confusion and concern, his golden eyes searching yours.

"Are you alright?" he asks, voice softer now. "Did I say something wrong?"

His words are light, but the worry in his gaze is unmistakable. There’s no sign that he felt the same electric tension—no lingering heat in his touch, no unsteady breath to match yours. The realization settles like a stone in your chest.

"You look paler than usual," he adds with a weak attempt at humor, though the joke falls flat.

You don’t get the chance to respond.

The darkness itself seems to rise in your defense—ink-black tendrils spilling down the obsidian walls, drawn to the radiant glow of Sol’s essence. They stretch toward him, not with malice, but with quiet insistence: Leave.

Sol exhales, shoulders slumping in resignation. "Alright, alright. I know when I’m not welcome anymore." His voice is rough, but the tension in the room has eased, and you finally feel like you can breathe again.

"It’s time for me to go, it seems," he murmurs, disappointment lacing his words. He turns toward the grand archway in the domed ceiling—the same one he’d barged through earlier—but hesitates at the threshold. When he glances back, his gaze is almost tender. "Just promise me you’ll visit. Whenever you have time."

You pause. You could deflect and offer some noncommittal reply, but you know him. He’d find an excuse to return regardless.

So you relent.

Not because of the way his eyes hold yours, bright with hope. Not because of the way your traitorous heart lurches at the thought of him leaving. Certainly not.

"I promise," you say, and the words feel like both a surrender and a confession.