It was dark, I presumed, and my entrance was anything but subtle. A portal of flames was often obtrusive and hard to miss. If I had even stumbled into the wrong direction - taken a wrong step - I would've been found out.

The angels here didn't take kindly to visitors, especially the demonic kind.

Yet, it was the only place I'd know her to be. Besides, the Underworld wasn't really meant for her - as much as her stouthearted, rebellious and fiery personality insisted otherwise.

I remember when my father and I had been invited to a royal wedding, the conjoining of two kingdoms becoming one. I wasn't sure which kingdoms - I was too young, probably five or six years old.

The ceremony was extravagant and massive in its size. I remember how in awe I was at the ballroom, how many people attended.

I sat alone at a round table by myself, watching the grownups talk and chatter in the center of the ballroom. The younger attendees, the children of the kingdoms, played together. They ran, screamed, danced, and laughed.

I remember how badly I wanted to join them, yet even at the age I was, my father forbade it. Where other royal kids roamed free, I was told to sit and be obedient. I was to only talk if spoken to and to keep the family's strict reputation. If I acted out, there were... consequences. Sometimes, he even used hypnosis to get me to "behave."

So, I sat alone, watching, awaiting my next orders. The other kids played in the distance, because they were afraid of me - I was a monster, and no one wanted to play with a monster, a demon.

Then, I felt a tug on my ankle, underneath the table's sheet. I looked down and found her hand latched onto it, her face peeking out from underneath the table. She scared me at first - a Mewman, scaring a demon.

She didn't seem frightened by me in the slightest. Instead, she was... intrigued, excited.

"Wanna see something really cool?"

I nodded, lamely and stupidly. She giggled and I remember her smile, the gap from losing one of her front teeth. She told me she could only show me her finding if I followed her, motioning me to come under the table. I did so, though I don't know why. But even as a twinge of guilt for disobeying my father's orders came to me just then, I couldn't say that I regretted it. Besides, after that day, I hadn't felt so alone anymore.

She showed me her mother's ancient, magical heirloom. A wand, passed down from generation to generation. I don't even know how she had possessed it. Her mother probably wasn't looking when she snatched it.

She had become too excited over the idea of using it, that she had accidentally triggered a blast, the wand reacting to her emotional state. The shock wave knocked the table out from above us, sending it tumbling across the perimeter of the ballroom, blowing our cover. The surge of power even reached to the ceiling, striking and causing the chandelier above to come undone. I remember the thunderous sound of it crashing down. Its glass crystal remains shattered upon impact, splitting and crushing tables, cracking the floor.

Needless to say, the ceremony was cut short.

Maybe Star's parents were more gentle, more easy on her punishment. I, however, was quickly removed. My father didn't even want to hear what I had to say. Once we were back home, he ordered the guards to throw me over the edge, to the pit. I barely escaped, only discovering a new skill to my own powers - flight by fire.

I wiped the memory away quickly, though I never let myself forget it. It was the first time Star and I ever met.

...

The moon's light melted through the translucent curtains, filtering through a silver shade across the room. A slight, ambient breeze sifted by, kicking up the curtain's lightweight fabric.

Her nose crinkled up from the sensation. Her eyelids twitched. She opened one, then the other.

Something inside of me recoiled, unsettled at her movements. I wasn't even sure if she even wanted to see me, considering the events of the Blood Moon Ball. She encased me in a hard block of ice - probably not a good sign, seeing as she left shortly after, without another word... silent, seething.

Not only that, but a few nights ago - after I had found her wandering soul in the Underworld - I was sure she didn't want to revisit the trauma.

"Tom?" She groaned, rubbing her eyes and squinting, her pupils readjusting. She sat up and I froze immediately.

I wondered if I was even doing the right thing, revisiting and comforting rather than adding insult to injury by being the reminder of it all. Maybe I was just bringing back bad memories or making it worse.

My mouth hung open, yet went dry with words I couldn't seem to find. My feet wouldn't budge. I probably looked stupid, staring dumbly at her, dressed up in a tuxedo. I mentally slapped myself.

What was I doing?

Was it just for appearance?

Was the formal wear supposed to charm her or something?

Maybe if I hadn't come empty-handed like I had, it would've made more sense. Maybe if I had brought some flowers, or maybe her favorite candy. But no, instead, I stood there like an idiot... a very well-dressed idiot.

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I began to panic, questioning my own existence in the Above, wondering what I was even doing here, why I had even come.

I stepped back, about to turn back, but she sprung up. Her arms raised and found my torso, tugging me into her. Her physical hold staggered me backwards, reeling on my heels.

Was the tux working?

I guessed whatever it was was unimportant. It didn't even seem to matter to her how I even came here, or how I'd found her. In fact, I had never stopped looking - even after I had found her in the Underworld and had awakened her, she had disappeared, ascending to the sky, where she belonged. Even then, I knew I had to find her again.

And the Above, as tightly guarded as it was, couldn't hold me out.

She gripped tighter, squeezing, feeling my breath leave my body. I tried to stay upright - her hold on me began to suffocate. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought she was trying to take me to the afterlife with her. The world began to blur. 

Nonetheless, it was Star. She was here - her asphyxiating hug was proof of it. I'd follow her to the afterlife if I had to. Hell, I didn't even mind if she killed me herself - intentional or not.

"Woah, Star. Okay, it's getting dark in here." I said.

She pulled back quickly. "Oh, sorry, sorry!" She chortled, a light and airy sound.

A laugh - she laughed!

Thank the Devil, she laughed!

I couldn't recall the last time I had heard it. It was a beautiful, freeing sound.

I had forgotten what her laugh had sounded like. The sound was surprising - startling.

A saltiness pricked at the corners of my eyes. I blinked to try to get rid of it, yet the water only blurred and worsened.

I promised myself I wouldn't cry - not again. I was done crying. I had no energy left to cry.

Before she had time to pull away completely, I latched hold of her wrist, seizing her into my chest. I squeezed her back. My words barely escaped me. I had to force them out before my throat closed shut.

"I missed you, Star. I... I missed you so much."

She was quiet for a long moment, locked in the embrace.

"I... missed you, too." Her voice was muffled.

I opened my eyes to stare at the floor, remembering.

"Star, we need to talk."

...

All the eagerness of meeting her again, I barely even had a chance to fully take in her new angelic appearance - bright, feathered wings and a ring hovering above her head.

Though, as much as I wanted to mention it, I decided against it. After all, Star didn't really need a constant reminder of the reality of her death. She was probably still trying to get used to the whole "afterlife" and "being dead" thing.

I wasn't even sure how to start the conversation. We lingered outside, on her bedroom's open balcony. She put her knees up to her chest, sitting in the single-person chair. She looked so small, with her light, airy nightgown and fringed, ankle socks.

I leaned against the stone balustrade, overlooking the Above. It was so wide and vast, I couldn't seem to find its end. It was nothing like the Underworld - it was everything that it wasn't. Architectures and buildings seemed to levitate on thick, cumulus clouds. The moon was closer than it had ever been - much more terrifyingly elegant from the altitude.

I knew her soul would always reach for the skies. It was where I imagined her adventurous, spirited heart to stray. She always craved higher heights and the thrill of danger - of course, she would take the leap.

"Wow," I said. "You... can see everything from here." I saw her tense and shuffle in the corner of my vision. I turned my gaze, noticing her wiping her face with the heel of her palm.

"Are you okay?" I said.

It was a dumb question. Of course she wasn't okay. A flashback came to me, replaying in my mind, only a few days before. I remember when she first awoke in the Underworld.

I remember cupping her face in my hand, her unconscious reaction, leaning into my touch. She began to solidify, her soul taking more and more of a physical form.

Slowly, her eyelids flickered, then fluttered, open. It took a moment, her eyes regaining focus and her memories to register, staring at the ceiling. I wasn't really sure if she had even seen me yet, still processing past events, searching for the last thing she could recall. Some sort of weary confusion passed in her expression.

Then, all at once, it was as if a switch had flipped.

It hauled her upright abruptly, like a corpse from the coffin - accurately so, just like her rising from the dead. Her consciousness recollected and her physical breath rang in sharp, strangled - a breath of life.

Memories came flooding back to her, like a dam that had finally broken from the pressure. Her breath came in sharp, ragged, hyperventilating. Once her lungs had trapped enough air, she began to scream.

The sound was terrifying, a cry for help before death. It was deafening. It was heart-wrenching. The weight of the fear fueled the rattling intensity of her volume - unruly, uncontained hysteria.

It was the sound of her vocal chords being ripped out of her - the sound of her lungs being torn wide open, making the sound more animalistic and gutting.

The sound of disbelief, pain, sadness, and horror all overtaking her at once.

I wondered what she remembered in that second, searching her face for the answer. Maybe she still didn't know, not really. Maybe she was still confused from the haze, wondering how she had "survived" it.

Had she even known of the time that had passed her?

"Star! Star, my sweet Starship! It's okay, it's... okay."

Her head shot up at the sound of my voice, eyes frantic and shaking.

"Tom?"

My chest cracked and blossomed, brightness leaking through. The bittersweet relief came in a fit of laughter and tears.

I still recall her tight, death grip onto me, latching blindly for support.

"Hey, it's... Star, it's okay."

I held her face, hushing her.

"Look at me. Just... just breathe. I'm here. I'm right here."

Her hands wrapped around me. Her head bowed into my chest.

"You're okay. You're... safe now. It's over. It's... it's over."

I remember how strong she was - how afraid she was to let go. But slowly, after a long and agonizing hour, she had finally depleted herself. We laid there, slumped and exhausted, against the wall of the corridors.

I didn't save her, not exactly. It wasn't really healing. It didn't make everything okay. She was still dead, indefinitely.

Now, she sat so far away, a respectable distance away. The way she seemed to shrink into herself made her look more closed off and self-isolated. She stared down the floor of the balcony.

"I'm... gone, aren't I? Like... gone, gone?" She finally asked, a bleary mumble into her knees.

The question was startling, yet somehow expected. My eyes dropped away from her. Maybe she still hadn't come to terms with the truth. Maybe she needed another account to confirm her fears to believe it. Maybe it was just a self-defense mechanism - hope that she could return back to her life as normal. But no, there was no return, no matter how much disbelief or denial was against reality.

I nodded to the ground. The truth was too painful to say out loud.

I witnessed her squeeze her eyes shut and look away. She tightened her fists. When she spoke again, her voice became laced with a sort of darker tone.

"Who else knows?"

"Just me." I said. But that wasn't true. I was holding back, unsure of how she would react. I let a second go by, a moment's hesitation. Then, I decided to rip the band-aid off of the wound. "And... and Marco."

Her breath stalled. I don't think she was ready to hear the name. She had probably been avoiding the thought of him, shoving the memories of him into a deep, dark place - locking it all up and throwing away the key. She thought she had gotten rid of that name.

Something sour and unsettling curled inside her. Her expression turned downwards, an anguished scowl. Her eyes glassed over with tears.

"Marco?" The name was bitter and twisted in her voice, held back by the grit of her teeth.

I went on, despite her negative response. "I... I don't know what to do anymore, Star. He's... not himself. He thinks he's a demon."

"Wow," The darkness in her voice remained, a nastiness still present. "How tragic."

"Star, please. Just... listen to me."

"Why do you even care? You don't even like him?"

I stalled. She was right. I really, really didn't like Marco. I understood her shortness and intolerance - even I didn't want to help Marco, especially if it meant mending their relationship. Though, I couldn't deny it. This is what I wanted all along - for the wedge to finally split them apart. My secret plan had worked... maybe a little too well.

"Yeah, I know." I groaned. "I'm... I'm a hypocrite, okay?" I rubbed the back of my neck, a rattling sigh leaving me. "He's... scaring me. He's... he's forgotten who he is."

"Yeah, so what?" She mumbled. The anger was gone from her voice. Instead, what was left was a static, emotionless tone.

"He's scaring me, Star!" I repeated louder, with more emphasis. "I saw him single-handedly throw a car. I saw him grow markings and - and now, he has... these powers-"

"No, stop!" She rose, meeting my eyes. Her sudden stance and stare startled me. It was the most assertive she had been since I came. "Do you even know what he did... to me?"

I did. I knew. I could see the affliction cross her face too, torn and raw. Her face was wet, her eyes veined with redness.

My hands shielded my face, turning upwards in frustration. I reached and held her by her shoulders, trying to shake the persuasion out of her.

"He needs you, Starship."

Silence.

Her body tensed under my touch. Our eyes locked. I watched her choke back a whimper. Her lip quivered, hung open to catch her shallow breath. The way her mouth pouted made her lips seem more plump... hydrated by the dampness coming down her cheeks.

Oh, god!

I wanted to kiss her so utterly, terribly bad. And for a moment, I began to reconsider my resolve. I had what I wanted - she was here, Star was here. I had won. This is what I wanted.

Right?

The doorknob to the balcony awoke with a clatter. My heart jumpstarted at the sound. The moment was lost and gone, our heads shooting towards the door.

"Star?" An older lady's voice called.

The door turned outwards and I leaped, scaling over the balustrade and underneath its stone floor. I was gone, out of sight, with no more than the slight sound of a breeze. I was good at it - I had practice. I remember all the times I had to hide from my father's wrath. I learned how to be alert and agile, slippery and stealthy. Even the guards could never seem to catch me.

"Star?" The lady's voice asked again. "What are you doing out here? It's late."

"Oh, uh..." I heard Star sputter. "Hi, Grandma. I just... uh, had a bad dream. Needed some... fresh air, I guess." She sniffled.

The rest I could barely hear, only mumbles and whispers of short exchanges. Then I heard shuffling and the groan of a tight hug.

"I love you so much, sweetie." The lady, Star's grandmother, said. Her accent was thick and full of grace, a true accent of a member of the Butterfly family. "My sweet, little grand-baby." What followed was noisy smooches and Star's loud protests.

"Grandma, stop!" I tried to stifle back a quiet chuckle. I imagined Star reeling back from the embrace, pressing her grandmother farther away.

"Okay, okay. I'm done. Just one more though, for good luck." She said, landing another smooch, on what I could only guess to be, Star's head.

"Do not stay out here too long. Get some rest."

"Okay."

Once the door clicked closed once again, I deemed it safe to return, gliding back up over the ledge with the flight of my fire.

"Must be nice to have someone always there for you. You don't get a lot of that in the Underworld, y'know. Especially when your dad is the literal King of the Underworld." I admitted somberly. I changed the topic, back to the real issue, before I lost my point.

"Marco..." I hesitated, knowing the sound of his name pained me just as much as it did for her. I practically had to force the words out. "Marco needs you, Star." Even that sentence felt wrong, considering how much I really hated being his advocate. "Someone to be there for him. He needs... a friend."

I thought to myself. Marco needed a friend, something I never was to him. I was only an enemy - always an enemy. He never trusted me from the start, never gave me his permission or acceptance as a friend. From that moment we had met through Star, he and I were just... disgruntled acquaintances.

Star fell silent for a few seconds, her fingers curling and clutching by her sides, back facing towards me. She hadn't moved in a long time. I was hoping she was considering, actually giving careful thought to it. She hugged herself into her crossed arms.

"We're not friends. Not anymore." She mumbled uselessly. Her head bowed, wings arching around her, hiding her away.

"You... used to be. If anyone can get through to him... it's... you." I forgot how hard it always was to get through to her. When she set her heart and mind to something, she always remained determined.

Something of her lessened, relaxed, though when she turned to look at me, there was still some sort of bitterness left in her expression, a sort of sadness in her eyes that was hidden behind the anger and pain. I gave half a smile, a tired, sad smile.

"But seriously, I can't risk being seen out here any longer. I'm... not exactly welcome here."

I raised my hand, a shooting portal of flames erupting by my side. She flinched at the heatwave that blew past her.

"You coming?" I offered my hand.

She stared at my open palm for a long, yearning moment, still wrestling with her mind. A small smile crossed the corner of her face, still ripe and tender from crying.

"Okay."