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 Vos felt he had no better move. The decision to facilitate the burgeoning romance between Luna and his friend was agonizing but dictated by a desperate, self serving logic. By accepting the role of the reluctant tactician in their potential love story, he guaranteed his proximity to her. He understood this choice was a self inflicted wound, a hurt that allowed him to breathe the same air and remain in her sight. This was his tragic definition of love: a pure, unconditional gift. If Luna achieved happiness, even if it was with someone else, his fox spirit would find quiet, resigned joy. He tried to believe real love required no immediate return.

Then, on an unremarkable day, as they walked side by side down the crowded hallway, the cosmos suddenly shifted. Luna looked up and casually mentioned that the infatuation with his friend was entirely over. The feeling had simply evaporated. A flood of unexpected, dazzling joy hit Vos with the force of a sudden, cleansing storm. He no longer had to be the agonizing love advisor. The chapter where he played the supportive star had ended instantly.

"Oh my god," Vos thought, biting back a cheer. He glanced at Luna, then quickly accelerated his steps toward class, but inside, his spirit was soaring. "Why didn't she stop liking him sooner? I have been miserable for weeks," he silently scolded the past. His tenure as a relationship coach was happily expired. Luna now pulled him into a new, dizzying phase: the life of the special one.

The proximity became constant. She sought out his back row sanctuary more and more often. She allowed her head to rest casually on his shoulder during conversations. She relied on him to be her driver when they went out. With every intimate gesture, Vos fell deeper into the abyss of his feelings. But this closeness only amplified an internal threat: his paralyzing jealousy.

Even as she claimed him as her special companion, Luna maintained an innocent, magnetic carelessness. She was the moon, and she effortlessly collected satellites. A clear example was the other boy in their class, whose crush on her was obvious to the entire room. Luna was fully aware of this boy's devotion, and yet she engaged, sharing bright laughter and playful moments with him. Vos wanted that precious smile to be exclusive, reserved only for him, the one she called special. He knew the feeling was selfish, but it sprang from a love that selfishly demanded ownership of her joy.

This dynamic became a relentless cycle of emotional whiplash. Luna would fly him to the seventh heaven with a whispered confidence, only to bring him crashing back to earth with a careless giggle shared with another orbit. This dizzying back and forth happened almost a hundred times. Sometimes, the pain forced him into a deep, silent sadness where he couldn't speak even to his closest buddies. Who could genuinely be happy when his crush was constantly flirting with the gravity of other planets? His feelings cycled relentlessly: delightful elation when they were alone, and crushing, unbearable jealousy when another guy made her laugh. He was both blessed and agonizingly hurt by her light.