The moment they got inside, Francis snapped into command mode.

  He pushed open the door of an unused bedroom — an old, sun-faded room everyone already called the isolation room.

  It had existed long before Luna arrived.

  Mostly because Pine Hollow rarely had new students, so extra rooms remained untouched.

  Also because, years ago, Trey caught the flu. Francis, being his roommate, caught it too, and the house had no medic for three straight days.

  People still woke up sweating from that memory.

  Abel once described it as, “Pine Hollow fell into a dark age. Without Francis, we were but children swinging wooden sticks at the plague.”

  No one wanted a repeat.

  Francis pulled back the curtains, checked the ventilation, adjusted pillows, and ordered Trey to place Luna on the mattress.

  “She’s burning up,” he murmured, pressing a hand to her forehead. “High fever. There’s definitely an infection.”

  Trey hovered like a shadow at the bedside, eyes glued to Luna’s face, jaw clenched so tight it ticked.

  “Is she going to die?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you absolutely—”

  “Trey,” Francis snapped, “she has a fever, not a fatal wound.”

  Reid slapped a cold cloth into his palm. “Make yourself useful and hand him things. Don’t touch her.”

  Francis finished checking Luna’s vitals and straightened with a sigh.

  “I’ve used Quanta to aid the fever. But she still needs cooling every thirty minutes,” he announced. “Someone has to wipe her face, neck—”

  “I’ll do it,” Trey said immediately, stepping forward like a soldier volunteering for war.

  Reid reacted instantly, stabbing a finger into his chest.

  “ABSOLUTELY NOT”

  Trey blinked. “Why not?!”

  “Because you’re a man!”

  Reid threw both arms out dramatically, like this alone explained the laws of the universe.

  “What does that have to do with anything?!”

  “You are not sponge-bathing Luna while she’s unconscious!”

  “I’m trained! I helped Francis clean a wound before! He literally taught me field care—”

  “That was first aid,” Reid snapped, “not rubbing her with water in a bedroom!”

  “It’s not rubbing—”

  “How would you know?!”

  “I KNOW BECAUSE I’M NOT AN IDIOT!”

  “Oh, please. If I let you do this, next you’ll volunteer to give her a full wash—”

  “I WOULD BE CAREFUL—”

  “That’s WORSE!”

  Bridget watched in silence, sighed, and walked away.

  Francis cleared his throat. “Technically, he could help if supervised—”

  “No,” Reid said, slamming her palm over Francis’s mouth. “He could not.”

  Francis froze.

  Reid continued ranting, oblivious.

  “That is completely inappropriate! And he’ll wake her up, he’ll talk, he’ll fuss—”

  “You are being dramatic.” Francis, finally came to sense, peeled her hand off—

  But he didn’t let go.

  “I am being responsible,” Reid corrected.

  Trey crossed his arms. “You don’t trust me.”

  “I trust you with weapons,” Reid snapped. “not with this.”

  “That is so unfair. I have a gentle setting!”

  Reid barked a laugh.

  “No. You don’t. You’re a boy,” Reid countered. “You don’t get to do unconscious caregiving!”

  Francis tried to interrupt, “I assure you, Reid, the gender of the caregiver is irrelevant if—”

  She clapped the hand over his mouth again.

  Francis didn’t even fight it this time— simply surrendered.

  He knew he couldn’t win against her, not now, not ever.

  On the other hand, Trey looked personally offended.

  “STOP TOUCHING MY DOCTOR LIKE THAT!”

  Reid scoffed. “He’s my doctor too!”

  Francis made a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like:

  Please keep your hand where it is.

  Before things escalated further, Eve wandered in.

  Barefoot.

  Half-asleep. Hair like a bird’s nest.

  A bowl filled with water in hands.

  She blinked at them. “…Are you three done?”

  They froze like children caught drawing on walls.

  Without waiting for an answer, Eve walked past them, took the cloth from Trey, and sat beside Luna.

  She dabbed Luna’s forehead gently.

  Trey whispered, “But I could’ve—”

  “Sit,” Eve said.

  Trey sat.

  Reid beamed victoriously.

  “See? This is who should do it.”

  “I WOULD HAVE BEEN GENTLE—”

  Eve lifted her eyes and gave him the big sister's deadly stare.

  Trey’s soul left his body as he closed his mouth.

  Reid let go of Francis and patted Trey’s shoulder in sympathy.

  “I’ll go brew something for her.” Francis muttered, grabbed Trey by the shirt collar like a parent removing a misbehaving toddler. “You, out.”

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  “No— Francis, please— she needs me—”

  “She’s in good hands,” Francis snapped, dragging him backward. “And you’ll talk her awake in five minutes.”

  Reid held the door open with a triumphant smirk, then she shut the door in his face.

  And locked it.

  A muffled thump hit the other side — Trey’s forehead.

  “You can’t keep me away from her!”

  “WATCH US!” Reid yelled back.

  Abel wandered by with a mug of morning tea.

  “If you break that door,” he said dryly, “you’re going into isolation next.”

  The house had gone quiet by midnight.

  Trey had waited.

  He watched Francis slumbering in his own bed, surrounded by a pile of cushions. His chest went up and down in slow, steady rhythm.

  Trey flipped out of his bed quietly, and managed to sneak down the hall to the isolation room. He pressed his ear to the door.

  Silence.

  He pushed it open.

  The lantern was dim. Luna slept curled under the blankets, her breaths still a little too quick, her cheeks still too warm.

  Trey’s chest squeezed painfully.

  He dragged a chair beside her bed and sat, elbows on knees.

  “See?” he whispered. “I can be quiet.”

  She didn’t move.

  Trey kept watch anyway — straightening her blanket, brushing locks of her hair away, checking her temperature with the back of his hand, scowling at the bowl of cloths because Reid banned him from using them.

  “Can’t believe they banned me from taking care of you. Like I’m basically the best at that.”

  She stirred.

  “Get well soon, Luna. It sucks when you can’t talk back.”

  Hours slipped by.

  At some point he rested his head on the edge of her mattress—

  and fell asleep like that.

  One arm curled protectively near her hand, just close enough to catch her if she moved.

  Luna stirred again.

  But this time she’s finally awake.

  Her throat was less raw. Her headache was dull instead of blinding. Her fever…

  She blinked.

  Something heavy pinned the edge of her blanket.

  Trey.

  Face partially buried in his arms.

  Hair sticking up in eight directions.

  “Trey?” she croaked.

  He jerked awake like he’d been shot.

  “LUNA—” he gasped, grabbing her hand. “Don’t do that ever again—”

  “What, waking up?”

  “Yes! No—actually yes—just—” He ran a shaky hand down his face. “I thought you’d… get worse.”

  Her lips twitched. “What happened though? Where is this place? I thought I was—”

  “—with Sergio,” Trey finished, a little too fast. “Yeah. You fainted in the willow woods.”

  Luna blinked. “I was with him?”

  Trey’s jaw tightened. “Apparently. He carried you here.”

  Luna glanced at him. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said instantly. Then, a second later, quieter, “Why were you with him?”

  She frowned. “I wasn’t with him. I was walking. I ran into him near the willows.”

  “At dawn.”

  “Yes?”

  “With no coat.”

  “…Yes?”

  His breath left him in a slow exhale. The tension in his shoulders shifted—no longer sharp, just tired and scared.

  “That’s not what scares me,” he said. “What scares me is that you were out there alone, half-frozen, sick, and thinking you could just… walk it off.”

  She looked away. “There was a lot on my mind. I just needed air.”

  He hesitated. “Was that about the orphanage?”

  Luna’s thoughts flickered.

  “No,” she said quickly. “It’s—”

  “Okay,” he cut her off, decided not to push. “But next time you need air, you wake me up and I’ll be the air.”

  “I don’t think that’s what I meant.”

  “But I’m sure you’re gonna like it.”

  A faint smile tugged at her lips.

  The door suddenly swung open.

  Francis strode in with a vial in one hand and a mug in the other—and stopped dead when he saw Trey.

  “…Of course,” he muttered. “You.”

  Trey straightened instantly. “She woke up.”

  “I can see that,” Francis said dryly as he moved to Luna’s side. “How do you feel?”

  “Confused?” Luna croaked.

  “Good sign.”

  He pressed two fingers to her wrist, then checked her forehead, then ran his Quanta to cool her down again. As he handed the vial to her, his eyes landed on a damp patch near the edge of the bed.

  He squinted.

  “…What is that?”

  Luna followed his gaze.

  She stared.

  Then slowly turned her head toward Trey.

  “…You drooled on my blanket?”

  “I DID NOT—” Trey yelped instantly, wiping the corner of his mouth in pure horror.

  Francis looked unimpressed. “How long have you been here?”

  Trey folded his arms. “You can’t trick me into answering that!”

  Francis exhaled loud enough to wake all the Pines up.

  Luna let out a hoarse giggle, then looked at Trey, more serious again. “You shouldn’t have stayed all night.”

  “Yes, I should have.”

  “No, you shouldn’t.” Francis glared.

  “I am her mentor and I am allowed to take care of her.” Trey crossed his arms, stubbornly.

  “You are not her mentor, and why haven’t I seen a bowl of soup yet?”

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  Trey opened his mouth.

  Closed it.

  Then opened it again.

  “…I was about to—”

  “You were about to what?” Francis asked flatly.

  “I was monitoring her condition.”

  “By sleeping,” Reid’s voice cut in from the doorway, holding it open.

  Trey whipped around. “YOU—”

  Abel stepped in, carefully holding a steaming bowl, followed by Reid, Bridget, and Bluebell.

  He paused when he saw Trey, then smiled politely. “Oh. You’re still here.”

  “I live here,” Trey snapped.

  “And yet,” Reid said sweetly, “you somehow forgot the soup.”

  Trey turned back to Francis, mortified. “I was going to get it.”

  Francis tilted his head. “After how many more hours of emotional supervision?”

  “…One?”

  Francis shut his eyes.

  Abel walked past Trey and held the bowl closer to Luna.

  “Chicken broth,” he said gently. “Small sips.”

  Luna pushed herself up with effort. “Thank you.” She said, then glanced around the room. “You’re all very loud for a sick room.”

  “Yes,” Bridget agreed. “But we missed you.”

  Reid took the cloth from the bedside and helped steady the bowl while Luna drank. “Don’t choke.”

  Luna managed a few careful sips before she noticed another figure peeking around the doorframe.

  “Luna?” Abbey asked softly. “Are you okay?”

  Behind her, Blake leaned in with a grin. “Morning.”

  Luna’s lips twitched. “Wow. The whole circus.”

  “Free ticket for the ill,” Blake said proudly. “What show you wanna see?.”

  Luna shrugged, finished the last of the soup—and just before she could sink back into the pillows, something clicked in her foggy brain.

  “Wait,” she said weakly. “What about the mission tomorrow?”

  The room stilled slightly.

  “Trey and I accepted it three days ago.”

  Trey shifted and crossed his arms, trying very hard to look casual.

  “Bluebell’s filling your spot.”

  Abel added calmly, “And I’m filling Trey’s.”

  Luna blinked. “Why, though? Trey isn’t sick.”

  Abel gestured at Trey like he was diagnosing a condition.

  “He can go. Physically. But mentally?” He patted Trey’s shoulder.

  “This poor guy will spend the entire mission worrying about you. So I’m going instead.”

  Bluebell recoiled like she’d been struck.

  “I am not going on a mission with this sly fox!”

  Blake leaned closer. “So you prefer Trey over Abel?”

  Bluebell froze.

  Processed.

  Then nodded solemnly.

  “…Valid point. Sly fox it is.”

  “Hey!” Trey barked, but no one bothered.

  Luna let out a weak laugh and finally sank back as the medicine pulled at her again.

  Francis adjusted the blanket once more. “Good. Now rest.”

  Trey tucked the blanket a little higher around her shoulders.

  Abel stepped back. “We’ll go to class and come back later.”

  Abbey nodded. “I’ll bring notes.”

  Bridget added, “And something sweet.”

  Reid pointed at Trey. “You are going too.”

  Trey stiffened. “Not a chance.”

  Blake perked up. “Yes, you are.”

  “I am not leaving her.”

  Francis crossed his arms. “You, of all people, need proper education.”

  “Me? Of all people?!”

  “And she needs silence, sleep, and medicine,” Francis replied. “None of which you provide.”

  “Tell them, Luna, that I’m the best supporter in this entire house.”

  But Luna had already drifted away.

  Trey’s eyes softened for a second. “Yeah, that would do too.”

  Blake took advantage of the emotional opening and hooked an arm around Trey’s neck.

  “Come on, hero. Let’s go learn something before you get sedated too.”

  “I will escape,” Trey warned.

  Blake dragged him anyway.

  As they reached the door, Trey called back over his shoulder, “If she wakes up and I’m not here, I’m blaming all of you—especially you, Reid!”

  “Watch your tone, drooler!”