The academy café was buzzing with life.
Laughter, clinking silverware, and the soft hum of mana-infused coffee machines filled the air. Sunlight spilled through wide arched windows, casting warm patches of light across polished wood tables and velvet seats.
Noel sat by one of the window booths, one leg crossed over the other, sipping from a cup of something vaguely caffeinated and not entirely awful. A plate of untouched food sat in front of him—mostly for show.
He didn't eat much during conversations.
He watched.
A shadow flickered across the window.
"Hey," Marcus said as he slid into the seat across from him, setting down his tray. "Sorry if I'm late."
"You're not," Noel replied without looking up. "You're early. Roberto's late."
Right on cue—
"Oye, I'm fashionably late," said Roberto, appearing behind Marcus and dropping into the seat beside him with a dramatic sigh. "Totally different vibe."
Marcus rolled his eyes and handed him a fork.
Roberto grinned. "And that's why I like you, man."
Noel took another sip and leaned back slightly.
"So. We're all here. Peaceful day, no duels, no exploding enchantments... feels suspiciously normal."
Marcus laughed. "Give it five minutes."
They'd barely gotten halfway through their meals before Noel set his cup down and gave Marcus a look.
Not a mocking one.
Just... curious.
"Alright," he said, poking at a slice of bread with his fork. "So how's it going with Clara?"
Marcus almost choked on his drink.
Roberto blinked. Then grinned wide.
"Oh no," he said. "We're doing this?
Marcus held up a hand, clearing his throat. "You could've at least waited until I swallowed, man."
Noel smirked. "Figured you've been swallowing your feelings for long enough. Thought I'd help."
Marcus groaned. "You're unbelievable."
Roberto leaned in like it was storytime. "Come on, don't hold out on us. You've been training harder, staying late after class—what's the plan, romeo?"
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck.
"I mean... it's nothing crazy. I just... I want to be someone she can count on, y'know? Not just another guy who talks big. I want to earn it."
Noel raised an eyebrow.
"Respect."
"Yeah?" Marcus asked.
"Yeah," Noel said. "But don't overthink it. Be honest. Listen more than you talk. And don't try too hard to 'be worthy.' She wouldn't be around you if she didn't already think you are."
Marcus stared at him.
Then blinked.
"...That was surprisingly good advice."
Roberto turned to Noel, slowly.
Narrowed his eyes.
Then smirked.
"Damn. You're giving dating advice now? What are you, Don Juan?"
Marcus chuckled into his cup. "You kinda walked into that one, man."
Noel didn't flinch. Just took another slow sip.
Then looked at Roberto over the rim of his cup.
"Right. And you're one to talk."
Roberto blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Noel set his cup down with practiced calm. "I've seen you in conditioning class. Same girl sits next to you every time. Same girl hands you your towel. Same girl you very obviously don't ignore."
Marcus looked between them, grinning. "Ohhh? This is new."
Roberto raised both hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay—first of all, she's just... persistent."
"Uh-huh," Noel said flatly.
Roberto narrowed his eyes. "She's the one who started talking to me."
Marcus: "And you've heroically let her continue ever since."
They all laughed.
Noel leaned back again, letting the quiet settle before someone else brought up the next name.
Roberto smirked, eyes gleaming like a wolf who just spotted a loose thread.
"Alright, alright," he said. "You got me."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"But let's talk about you, Mr. Strategic. Because rumor has it someone's been spending a whole lot of quiet time in the library..."
Noel didn't move.
"...with Elyra von Estermont."
Marcus's eyebrows shot up.
"No way. The Elyra? Council Vice President, political genius, wears judgment like perfume?"
Noel sighed, slow and long.
"We're not a thing."
Roberto grinned. "You sure? Because she doesn't exactly waste her time with just anyone."
Noel stared at his half-empty cup.
Didn't answer right away.
Then, without looking up—
"Coaches don't play."
He said it deadpan, as if it were law.
Marcus lost it.
Nearly choked on his drink, laughing.
Roberto slapped the table. "That's the most evasive humblebrag I've ever heard."
Noel shrugged. "It's not like that."
"But you didn't deny the time together," Roberto shot back.
Noel just raised an eyebrow.
"Should I?"
More laughter.
The laughter died down slowly, replaced by the easy rhythm of silverware on plates and soft murmurs from nearby tables. Other students passed by, a few tossing curious glances toward the three of them—Class A boys who, on paper, shouldn't get along this well.
Noel leaned back in his seat again, arms crossed, letting the sunlight hit his face through the tall café window.
For a moment, it almost felt normal.
But the weight never really left.
Not for him.
'I can't tell them why I'm really working with Elyra.'
He glanced at Marcus—smiling now, joking with Roberto over who could beat who in hand-to-hand sparring.
'I can't interfere too much. Marcus needs to grow through those events...'
He looked back into his cup, watching the reflection ripple.
'Just talking to Elyra already shifted the timeline. She wasn't even part of that arc in the book.'
Noel's lips barely moved, but his voice in his head was steady.
'One variable at a time. I can't afford to start rewriting everything. At least now.'
"Yo, earth to Noel," Roberto said, snapping his fingers lightly in front of him.
Noel blinked once.
"Hm?"
"You good?"
Noel nodded, a little slower than usual.
"Yeah. Just thinking."
Marcus grinned. "That's dangerous."
Noel gave the faintest smile.
'You have no idea.'