The next morning, Bartz is fresh from restless sleep, and yet awakening to a nightmare.

✨

Sink water pooled lakes within his palms. It reminded Bartz of lazy summer afternoons by the lakeside, how his toes used to wiggle between the ripples, those epic moments when Boko would dash by and leave a gust big enough to cast worries to the distant mountains. So Bartz eyed his wetted hands with gusto, jerked them hard so the water would drown his face in rejuvenating waves.

Nope. He glanced the mirror and frowned. That's not helping either.

The colors in his eyes still gleamed duller. Sleep lines still mingled in hues of pink not quite lost to the passage of time. Dammit. Something like a gritty growl slithered through Bartz's throat—ripped through his teeth like a dying roar.

All this was because, well . . . his mind decided to have parties of dreams he wasn't invited to, but he was yanked inside regardless.

Last night, all he saw and all he knew were Lightning's candy lips. He wondered if they would taste like berries or flowers or the sweat of morning hours. He thought about how he would ask her to kiss him—whether he should ask politely or let some magnetic force thrust him towards her without a word. Scenario after scenario rolled like yarn getting tangled. Sometimes Light would blush, drive her tongue deeper against his. Other times she'd wallop him in the chin, never dare speak to him again.

Bartz watched as droplets drew patterns along his nose. Some water got in his hair, shading it to colors that laughed in darkness. Should he spend more time with her first? Should he just ask her and get it over with today? But Bartz, c'mon. You look like a chocobo that got stuck in the dryer too long. Then droplets curved and swirled, outlining confused, cold lips. Maybe I should get some lip balm first? Wait, where can I even get that stuff around here? Oh crap, I gotta brush my teeth real good too—

"Good morning, Bartz."

A jolt and a neck-snap later, Bartz was staring into monotonous blue eyes, a moon-like mane that shamed the bathroom bulbs. Warrior of Light.

"Oh, morning, Warrior!" Bartz scampered to make his red cheeks some concoction of the water. He splashed himself dizzy. "Sorry, did you need this sink? I'm almost done."

Warrior waved a solider-stiff hand. "No, please, take your time. I only wanted to let you know that . . ." He paused. A shy-like glint grabbed his pupils and stayed there. ". . . I believe I've come to a decision on who to kiss for the challenge."

Bartz slung a towel smack across his face. Then he somehow managed a smile—one of those fake ones he'd mastered like a job. "Oh, yeah? Hit me with it. Who's the lucky person?"

Seconds ticked louder than booms as Warrior shifted in his stance. And though he tried to straighten himself, he couldn't really. He reminded Bartz of an old tree—tall and sturdy, yet destined to bend in those awkward angles.

However, when Warrior of Light finally found his voice . . .

". . . I think I'd like to ask Lightning."

Bartz didn't anticipate the sound of his heart shattering. All over the Dissidia skies.