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Rocket had spent the last hour arguing with his reflection.
“I like you,” he tried, pointing at himself in the mirror. “See? Easy. Just say it like that.”
Then, grimacing: “No, too blunt. Sounds like an accusation. Okay- Sword, I think I- uh- no, that’s worse. You sound like you’re interviewing him!”
He ran both hands through his hair and groaned. The mirror version groaned back.
How do people do this?
He could fight, he could fly (IF he tried hard enough), he could face nightmares, but saying four small words to one very oblivious Inphernal? Impossible. His stomach twisted every time he imagined Sword’s face- that serene half-smile, the unbothered calm in his eyes. Rocket could already picture him saying something stupid, Sword tilting his head, saying “you mean, like, as a friend?” and Rocket collapsing into a pile of dust.
He exhaled. “Okay. No more overthinking. Today’s the day.”
He straightened his shirt, smoothened his hair, and tried to look casual- well, only the kind of casual that takes ten minutes to achieve. The plan was simple: when Sword showed up (because he would, eventually, like he always did), Rocket would take him somewhere quiet. A park, maybe. Somewhere with grass and atmosphere. He’d talk about feelings and fate and-
The door creaked open.
“Hey,” Sword said.
Rocket froze. “...What?”
Sword stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, dressed in his usual casual clothes- loose shirt, slightly puffy jacket, jeans cuffed at the ankle. Effortless. Unfair. He looked like the human embodiment of calm Saturday mornings.
Behind him, Zuka leaned into the hall with a mug of coffee, unbothered. “He was knocking for a while,” he said, like this was perfectly normal. “I let him in.”
Rocket turned to Sword, who looked completely unbothered, as usual. “You- how long have you been here?”
“Uh. Ten minutes?” Sword tilted his head. “You didn’t answer, so I thought you were asleep. Or dead.”
“Dead? I was thinking!”
“Oh.” Sword blinked. “About what?”
Rocket felt the panic rise like static electricity. “About…breakfast.”
Zuka, halfway down the hall, muttered, “you already ate.”
Rocket shot him a look that said please leave me before I self-destruct.
Zuka only smirked over his shoulder, sipping his coffee. “Don’t keep your guest waiting, kid.”
When the sound of footsteps faded, Rocket slumped against his desk, exhaling hard. Sword stepped inside properly now, glancing around the room- the torn pieces of paper, the slightly messy bed, the mirror still tilted toward Rocket’s chair.
“What were you doing?” Sword asked.
“Nothing!” Rocket said too quickly.
Sword’s eyebrows lifted. “..Were you talking to yourself again?”
Rocket froze. “No.”
“You were,” Sword said easily, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Your lips are a little shiny, like you’ve been saying things.”
Rocket blinked. “That’s the worst possible way you could’ve said that.”
Sword looked genuinely confused. “Oh. Sorry?”
And just like that- this was the problem.
How do you confess to someone who can walk into your room, completely derail your nervous breakdown, and still look at you with that unassuming softness?
Rocket rubbed his neck, trying to steady his tone. “So…why’re you here?”
Sword shrugged lightly. “Wanted to hang out. You always say you’re free on weekends.”
“I- yeah, I am. I just…didn’t expect you to materialize in my doorway.”
Sword’s mouth curved, that half-smile that made Rocket’s heart give a very unhelpful flutter. “If I asked first, you’d overthink it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
He was never wrong.
Rocket sighed, defeated. “...Fair.”
Sword stepped closer, peering down at him, and for a second Rocket swore the air changed- quiet, close, like gravity had tilted slightly toward the other boy. Sword’s hair brushed against his cheek when he tilted his head.
“You look nervous,” Sword murmured.
Rocket’s pulse leapt. “Do I?”
“Yeah. Are you sick?”
“...No.”
Sword hummed. “Good.” And then- as if he hadn’t just left Rocket’s brain in total meltdown- he added, “Come on. Let’s go somewhere!”
Rocket blinked. “Where?”
Sword shrugged again, simple and serene. “Wherever you want. I just want to be with you.”
That was so not fair.
Rocke turned away for a second, cheeks burning, trying to get his breathing under control. He muttered under his break, “Just friends, huh,” before forcing a grin.
“Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “But you’re buying the drinks.
Sword nodded. “Okay.” Then, after a pause, “But you drink it too fast.”
Rocket laughed despite himself. “And you don’t even pay half the time, so we’ll call it even.”
As they left the room, Zuka called from the kitchen, “Don’t come back late!”
Rocket groaned, pulling the door shut behind him. “No promises, old man!”
___
Crossroad’s heart beat slow and even that afternoon.
Not loud- just the quiet tapping of shoes, wind brushing through the narrow streets, shop doors chiming open and shut. There was a square of green in the center, half grass and half concrete, with benches scattered like afterthoughts. It wasn’t much of a park, but it was theirs.
Rocket sat on one of the benches, legs crossed, his phone tilted toward the light. He was laughing softly- those half-choked laughs that came from videos only he found funny. His thumb kept scrolling, liking, saving, sending things to nobody.
Sword sat beside him, posture relaxed, hands folded neatly over his knees. He didn’t say anything- just whistled some absent tune, faint and tuneless, filling the silence without disturbing it.
After a few minutes, he stopped mid-whistle and pointed ahead. “Look,” he said.
Rocket looked up, squinting. A small kiosk stood a little ways across the plaza, the kind that sold bottled drinks and slushies under a bright awning.
Sword nodded toward it. “I’m gonna get something!”
Rocket raised an eyebrow. “Do you even have money?”
Sword gave him that ‘certain’ tone he always had. “‘Course I do!” He patted his pocket once, twice- and then frowned, patting the other side. Then the back pockets. Then his jacket pocket just in case.
Nothing.
Rocket sighed, lowering his phone. “How unbelievable.”
Sword turned to him, sheepish but smiling “I- uh, must’ve left it somewhere…”
“‘Somewhere’ being your house, probably.” Rocket muttered, fishing into his own pocket. He pulled out his wallet and handed it over with a quiet huff. “Here. Before you start checking your shoes or something.”
Sword’s grin lit up instantly, bright and easy. “Thanks, Rocket!”
That smile-
That stupid, brilliant, effortless smile- hit Rocket like sunlight through glass. His chest did a weird, tight sort of flutter and his words tripped over themselves.
“Y-You’re welcome,” he managed, voice higher than usual.
But Sword had already turned away, stepping across the square toward the kiosk, unbothered and humming again.
Rocket groaned and slumped back into the bench, pressing both palms over his face. “Why is it so hard…” he muttered, muffled against his hands.
The world kept moving. Footsteps, chatter, the hiss of an opening can. A pigeon strutted nearby, utterly fearless. Rocket peeked through his fingers just in time to see Sword at the front of the line, wallet in hand, gesturing animatedly as he waited for his order. He looked so content there- like someone who didn’t have to think too hard about happiness.
And Rocket thought, if only I could say it without my lungs turning into fireworks.
After a few minutes, Sword returned. He carried two slushies, condensation already forming on the sides. The plastic lids gleamed in the sun.
“Here.”Sword held one out to him. “I know you like strawberry.”
Rocket’s eyes lit up like someone had switched the sun on again. “You remembered?”
Sword tilted his head. “...Yeah? You always get strawberry.”
Rocket reached out, careful not to touch his fingers, and took it. “Thanks,” he said softly.
Sword smiled, settling beside him. “You’re welcome.”
And just like that, the world fell into that same rhythm again- Rocket with his phone, Sword with his calm presence, the two slushies sweating quietly between them. The noises of the city blurred into something gentle.
Rocket took a sip. Sweet, cold, familiar.
Sword leaned closer, slowly, naturally, until his head rested against Rocket’s shoulder.
Rocket froze.
His entire body went still, slushie halfway to his lips. The cold straw brushed his mouth; the warmth of Sword’s hair brushed his neck.
Sword’s head fit perfectly into the crook between Rocket’s neck and shoulder, his breath soft against Rocket’s skin. He stared at Rocket’s phone screen, where a video was paused mid-frame.
“Why’d you pause it?” Sword asked quietly.
Rocket blinked. “...Uh.”
He could feel his face burning red, pulse stumbling. “I just- uh. You’re kinda-”
“Heavy?” Sword offered, smiling faintly without moving.”
Rocket exhaled, defeated. “...Yeah. A little.”
Sword chuckled under his breath. “Should I move?”
Rocket hesitated. He looked down at Sword- soft light brushing his hair, that unthinking ease of someone who just wanted to be close. Something in Rocket gave up the fight.
“No,” he said quietly.
Sword smiled, eyes half-lidded. “Okay.”
Rocket sat there, trying to pretend his heart wasn’t actively trying to climb out of his chest, trying to act normal while everything in him screamed I love you, I love you, I love you.
The strawberry slushie melted slowly between his fingers.
___
Rocket’s thumb hovers over his screen. He’s barely seeing the videos anymore. Sword’s laughter hums beside him like sunlight caught in his ribs- bright, unbothered, too close. Every time Sword laughs, Rocket feels the sound like a weight pressed to his chest.
He can’t breathe. He should say it.
Just say it.
He’s been chanting it in his head for the last ten minutes. It sounds easy in thought- just three words. But in his mouth, it feels like a storm. His throat’s dry, his hand’s restless, thumb still swiping through his feed like it’ll save him.
Sword leans closer again, eyes bright. “That one’s funny, like it,” he says, pointing at the phone. Rocket’s barely listening as his finger moves on its own.
He’s counting heartbeats.
One. Two. Three. Say it.
His lips part. “I-”
The sound barely escapes. Sword doesn’t notice- too busy chuckling at something on the screen. Rocket swallowed, feeling like his pulse is in his ears. He tries again, voice a touch louder. “I…”
Sword blinks, straightening up slightly, head tilted. “...You?”
Rocket freezes, every nerve in his body lighting up at once. He wants to vanish. He wants to jump off this bench. “I, um-”
Sword, patient as ever, sets his slushie down and places a hand on Rocket’s shoulder. The warmth of it grounds him and shatters him at once. “Hey. Whatever it is, I won’t judge,” he says softly, eyes so open it hurts to look at them.
Rocket stares at that face- that radiant, oblivious face- and feels the world narrow to a single fragile thread. It’s now or never.
He turns a little, so they’re facing each other. His voice shakes, barely above a whisper.
“I…love you.”
Sword blinks. Tilts his head again. “What was that?”
Rocket draws a breath so sharp it hurts and meets his gaze fully. “I said I love you.”
For a second, the city noise fades- no chatter, no door jingling, just the soft hum of air between them. Sword looks at him, not shocked, not uncomfortable. Just…thoughtful. Then he breaks into a bright grin.
“Ohhh! I love you too!”
Rocket’s brain halts. “Wait- really?”
“Of course!” Sword laughs. “You’re my favorite person, Rocket. You get me, and you’re my best friend. I mean, who else would put up with me losing my wallet every other day?”
Rocket stares, the world sinking in slow motion. The words echo, hollow and kind all at once: best friend. He laughs weakly- a brittle sound. “That’s…not what I meant.”
Sword blinks. “Oh. So like- you hate me?”
Rocket nearly chokes on air. “What- no!”
They go in a small circle for a while- Rocket fumbling, Sword utterly unbothered.
“You’re impossible,” Rocket finally mutters, dropping his head into his hands.
“Wow,” Sword says, mock-offended. “That’s not very loving of you.”
“You clearly don’t know what ‘loving’ means.”
Sword looks genuinely confused. “Is that not how you feel when you’re around someone you like?”
Rocket makes a strangled sound halfway between a laugh and a groan, choking on a sip of his slushie. He doesn’t even answer. He just goes back to scrolling through his phone, face still flushed pink.
Sword grins- not noticing, or maybe pretending not to. He leans back against Rocket again, head in the same place as before, perfectly content.
Rocket doesn’t move this time.
He just stares at his screen, heart hammering, and wonders if being “just friends” was supposed to hurt this sweetly.
___
The walk back is slower than usual. The kind of slow that isn’t about tired legs but heavy thoughts. Rocket kicks a pebble down the sidewalk, watching it skip past the edge of a flickering lamp post. The air’s cooler now- city lights breathing gold and white in lazy blinks.
Sword’s walking beside him, hands tucked into his pockets, humming under his breath. He glances over after a while, the tune fading. “You’re quiet.”
Rocket shrugs. “Just tired.”
Sword tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly in that way he does when he’s trying to see through a person. “Did something happen?”
Rocket keeps his gaze forward. “No. Nothing.”
Sword doesn’t answer at first. His footsteps slow until they’re both nearly standing still beside the glow of a lamp post. “Are you lying?” he asks softly- not accusing, just concerned.
Rocket forces a laugh, small and humorless. “No.”
Sword studies him for a moment longer, searching his face. Then he sighs, a long breath through his nose, and looks away. “Okay.”
They keep walking. The silence this time isn’t comfortable like it usually is. It’s full of things Rocket doesn’t want to think about- all the what ifs echoing like footsteps in his head.
He’s not even mad at Sword. Not really. He’s mad at himself.
Mad at Zuka for letting Sword in like it was no big dead, mad at the shopkeeper who smiled too kindly while handing over those slushies, mad at the city for being so bright when his chest feels this dim. Mostly, he’s mad at himself- for thinking today was the right day. For thinking he’d finally stop being a coward. For thinking Sword could ever understand what “I love you” really meant when he said it.
By the time they reached his buildings, the lights on a nearby balcony started to blink in uneven rhythms. Rocket’s fingers twitch on the door handle. He opens it wordlessly, the sound of the lock clicking too loud in the quiet.
Sword steps up beside him, close enough that Rocket can feel his warmth. When he turns around, Sword’s right there.
“What are you doing?” Rocket asks, his voice coming out rougher than he means.
Sword blinks, tilting his head. “Coming inside. Duh.”
Rocket stares, trying to find some kind of response. “It’s late.”
“It’s not that late,” Sword replies simply. There’s that little grin again- the one that usually melts Rocket’s heart, but tonight it just stings. “I wanted to spend more time with you.”
The silence stretches. Sword’s grin falters a little, worry creeping in around the edges. “...Do you want me to leave?’
Rocket’s head snaps up before he can even think. “No.”
Sword’s face softens instantly- a small, awkward smile blooming again, gentler this time. “Okay then.”
He steps inside, brushing past Rocket, and walks off somewhere to the side.
For a moment, Rocket stands there by the threshold, hand still on the knob.
The lights outside flicker once more before settling- steady and soft. He exhales, slow and shaky, before turning around to follow Sword in.
___
Zuka’s already gone to bed. The upstairs light is off, and the only glow left in the living room comes from the television- blue and hazy, washing over the couch where Rocket and Sword sit.
They’re watching some kind of romantic comedy. Sword’s pick. “To lighten the mood,” he’d said with that same hopeful grin. But the film feels heavier than the silence between them.
Rocket isn’t even looking at it. His gaze drifts- to the curtains, the faint him of the refrigerator, the cracks in the ceiling. Anywhere but Sword.
Sword, though, seems absorbed- or at least pretending to be. Every few minutes, his eyes flicker sideways, checking on Rocket like he’s afraid he’ll disappear.
When Rocket doesn’t react to a particularly ridiculous scene, Sword’s frown deepens. He reaches for the remote and click- the movie freezes mid-frame, two actors caught in an awkward embrace.
Rocket blinks at the sudden quiet. “Why’d you pause it?” he asks, his voice distant.
“Because you’re not paying attention.”
Rocket’s lips twitch, a weak attempt at a smile. “It doesn’t matter-”
“Yes, it does!”
Sword turns to face him fully now, his voice calm but steady. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Rocket exhales sharply, staring down at his knees. “It’s nothing, Sword.”
“Is it about something I said?”
“No.”
“Something I did?”
“Of course not-”
“Then tell me what’s wrong!” Sword’s voice rises suddenly, not angry but desperate.
Rocket stiffens. His pulse spikes. “It’s not-”
“Rocket.”
“Sword, please-”
“Just tell me!”
And that’s it. The last crack gives way.
Rocket’s voice rips out before he can stop it. “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”
The sound hangs heavy in the air- raw, trembling, echoing off the quiet walls. Sword blinks started, mouth half-open like he’s not sure he heard right.
“I- I know,” Sword starts softly, still blinking. “I love you too-”
“NO, YOU DON’T GET IT!” Rocket snaps, cutting him off so fast Sword flinches. “Not like that, idiot!”
He’s trembling now, his voice breaking, the words clawing their way out his chest. “I love you. With everything. Romantically. Not like a friend, or some brother or sister or even a teammate- like someone I want.”
He grabs Sword’s collar, voice splintering between anger and ache. “And it’s driving me insane that you can’t even understand that! That I could scream it a hundred times and it still wouldn’t get through that thick head of yours!”
Sword’s eyes are wide- shock and something else flickering behind them, something uncertain.
Rocket’s breathing is ragged, almost shaking as he continues, words tumbling too fast to control. “I’ve been planning this all day. Since morning. I thought today would be the day, that I’d finally grow a spine and say it, and you’d-” he swallows hard, voice cracking. “You’d maybe look at me the way I look at you.”
He lets go suddenly, like the weight of it all is too much to hold. Sword’s collar slips through his trembling fingers. Rocket’s shoulders slump. “But no. Of course not. Because I’m an idiot for thinking I could time love.”
The silence after feels endless. The paused movie still hums faintly in the background, frozen laughter hanging in the air like ghosts.
Rocket’s eyes glisten. He turns away, wiping at them roughly. “Just…forget it. Please.”
Sword still hasn’t moved, still hasn’t said a word. That stillness feels unbearable.
“Just go home,” Rocket mutters. His voice is small now, breaking under the weight of everything he’s held in. “Before I make this worse.”
He stands abruptly, hands buried in his pockets, and starts for the hallway. Sword’s hand twitches- as if to reach out- but Rocket’s gone before he could make a decision.
___
Rocket’s room feels smaller tonight. The air’s thick, unmoving- the faint hum of the city below doing nothing to fill the space between his heartbeat and his regret.
He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, hands tangled together, staring at the floor like it’s going to give him answers. The only thing in his head, circling over and over, is a single thought.
I fucked up.
He can’t believe it. Can’t believe he was the one who yelled.
At Sword. Of all people. Sword, who never yells back, who doesn’t even know how to look cruel.
Sword, whose biggest flaw is being too kind for his own good.
Rocket’s fists tremble against his knees. His throat burns. He bites his bottom lip, and when it wobbles, that’s it- the first sob slips out before he can stop it.
He buries his face in his hands. The sound is ugly, wet, muffled. All that anger from before breaks apart into something softer, smaller- the kind of crying that feels like an apology.
He doesn’t even hear the door creak open.
Doesn’t look up when soft footsteps cross the floor, or when the mattress dips beside him under another’s weight.
It’s only when arms wrap gently around his shoulders that he freezes. He knows that warmth. That scent. That steadiness.
Sword.
Of course it’s Sword.
That thick-skulled, stubborn, impossibly kind Sword who never knows when to leave, who probably doesn’t even realize Rocket had told him to go.
And worse- Rocket leans into it. He leans, then sinks, then collapses entirely into the hold, burying his face against Sword’s shoulder as the sobs come harder.
Sword says nothing. Just rubs slow circles into Rocket’s back, the way you might calm a trembling animal. He sighs, quiet but heavy, the kind of sound that feels like understanding without words.
It’s a long time before Rocket’s breathing steadies. He wipes at his face with the back of his sleeve, eyes red and tired, and looks away.
“...Why are you still here?” he mumbles.
Sword doesn’t answer.
Rocket turns a little more, forcing himself to meet Sword’s gaze. “Seriously. Why are you-”
“I’m sorry.”
The words come out small, shaky.
Rocket blinks. “What?”
Sword swallows, eyes glistening in the faint lamplight. “I said I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Rocket asks, voice breaking halfway between confusion and guilt.
Sword shakes his head. “For…everything I didn’t understand.”
Rocket opens his mouth, but Sword keeps going, voice trembling but certain.
“When I’m around you, I feel things. A lot of things. I never knew what to call them. I thought- maybe it was just friendship, or family, or that I just liked being near you.” His gaze drifts down toward his hands. “But I never stopped to think that maybe it was something else. Something more.”
He looks up again, eyes bright but wavering. “That’s my fault. I should’ve known. I just…didn’t know what to label it. I never had to before.”
The silence stretches between them, fragile as glass.
Sword hesitates, then asks quietly, “When you said you loved me earlier…did you mean it?”
Rocket stares, taken aback. “‘Course I did.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why do you- yes, Sword!” Rocket says, half-angry, half-heartbroken. “Why do you keep asking that?”
Sword’s lip trembles, but his smile is small and sure. “Because…I love you too.”
Rocket freezes. “What?”
Sword keeps talking- the words tumbling out like a river finally breaking its banks.
“After what you said, I finally understood it. What it is I’ve been feeling all this time. It wasn’t just friendship, or brotherhood, or whatever I kept calling it. It’s you. It’s love. I just- I didn’t have the words before, and I’m sorry for that.”
He scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, a nervous little habit. “I probably should’ve figured that on my own, huh?”
Then, as if the world hadn’t just stopped spinning, he reaches forward, gently taking Rocket’s hands in his own. His grin blooms bright- the same grin as always, but now Rocket feels what it means.
“I love you, Rocket.”
It’s so simple. So sincere.
And Rocket feels it- the warmth, the relief, the unbelievable sweetness of it all. The weight that’s been crushing his chest melts into something golden.
He laughs- choked and broken and bright.
Then he laughs harder, tears still streaming down his face, half-hysterical and happy.
He’s happy.
So fucking happy.
Happy enough to run a marathon.
Happy enough to scream it to the stars.
Happy enough that maybe- just maybe- all the waiting, all that heartache, was worth it.
___
Rocket didn’t even process what had just happened.
One second, he was smiling like a fool, heart hammering in his chest so hard it was almost painful- and then suddenly, the world blurred. His breath hitched. The mattress tilted. And somehow-
Somehow his lips were on Sword’s.
It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t graceful. It was a clumsy, startled press, too sudden to be romantic and yet too charged to be anything else. His hand had grabbed Sword’s collar without him even realizing it, knuckles white against the fabric.
His eyes were half-shut, his mind blank, every thought drowned beneath the sound of his pulse in his ears.
When he blinked his eyes open, Sword was staring right back at him.
Wide-eyed.
Frozen.
Face blazing red.
For a moment, the silence was so deep Rocket could hear the faint hum of the fridge down the hall, the flicker of the fairy lights outside their window, the faint buzz of the world trying to remember how to move again.
Then Rocket snorted.
It started as a little breath of disbelief, but then- like a spark catching fire- it became laughter. Soft at first, then loud, bright, unstoppable. His whole body shook with it,and Sword, still frozen, looked absolutely bewildered.
“Wh- what- why are you laughing?!” Sword stammered, his voice an octave higher than usual.
Rocket tried to talk through his laughter, gasping between breaths. “You-” he managed, pointing weakly at him. “Your face- you look like- like a tomato!”
Sword blinked, cheeks darkening even further. “You- your face was red too! When we were in Crossroads!” he shot back defensively.
Rocket wiped at his eyes, still laughing. “That doesn’t count! That was the past!”
Sword narrowed his eyes, lips twitching up. “Oh yeah?”
Rocket froze. That tone. That tone never meant anything good. (For him, at least.)
Before he could react, Sword’s hand shot out, gripping his collar this time- and pulled him forward. Their lips met again, firmer this time, heat sparking across Rocket’s skin in an instant.
It lasted only a heartbeat, but it left him dizzy.
When Sword finally pulled back, Rocket was frozen in place, face so red it could’ve lit up the entire bedroom. Sword’s grin was triumphant, infuriatingly smug.
Rocket blinked, lips parted. “...What the hell was that for?!” he finally barked, shaking Sword by the collar.
Sword laughed- really laughed- the kind that came from deep in his chest. “I don’t knooooow~” he teased, sing-song, leaning back out of Rocket’s reach. “Felt like the right thing to do!”
“You-” Rocket sputtered, still gripping his collar. “You’re impossible!”
Sword giggled, brushing a thumb against Rocket’s wrist before he could pull away. “And you’re dramatic!”
“I’m not-” Rocket began, but Sword leaned him, cutting him off with that same mischievous smile.
“You know,” Sword said softly, “we really are the worst people at confessing.”
Rocket’s breath caught, just a little. The fire in his chest dimmed into something gentler, something almost shy. “You’re just horrible at understanding,” he muttered.
Sword laughed again, tilting his head. “And you’re horrible at waiting.”
The tension broke like sunlight through clouds. They stared at each other for a heartbeat- and then both of them started laughing. Loud, messy, joyful laughter that filled every corner of the room.
Sword fell back against the bed, still laughing, while Rocket dropped beside him, one hand over his face as if trying to hide how much he was smiling. Sword nudged him with his shoulder, and Rocket groaned but didn’t move away.
Outside, the fairy lights shimmered faintly, their glow flickering across the windowpane. The film they’d paused earlier still sat on the screen downstairs, a frozen image of two cheesy lovers caught mid-hug. It almost felt like the universe itself was laughing along with them- soft, amused, content.
Sword leaned his head against Rocket’s shoulder, still chuckling under his breath. “You really love me, huh?” he murmured.
Rocket rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched. “You just realized?”
Sword grinned, voice lighter than air. “Guess I’m a little slow.”
“A little?” Rocket huffed. “You nearly broke my brain, idiot.”
Sword laughed again, that same full, careless laugh that made the world seem a little warmer. “Well, you fixed mine,” he said softly.
That shut Rocket up. He turned to look at him, really look- at the soft grin, the glow in his eyes, the gentle curve of his hair against the lamp light- and for once, he didn’t feel nervous.
Instead, he reached out, brushed Sword’s bangs from his face, and smiled. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured.
Sword smiled back. “You love me.”
“Unfortunately,” Rocket replied- but his grin betrayed him.
They both laughed again, falling into a quiet, easy rhythm, shoulder touching, breaths in sync. Their half-melted slushies sat forgotten on the table, their colors blending into a sugary swirl.
And for the first time that day, Rocket didn’t feel angry. Or frustrated. Or annoyed. He just felt- right.