Somewhere at night, with the city glowing behind them.
"Let go! Let me go, damn it! Let go!!!"
But the green-haired boy didn't listen to Sera's shouting. On the contrary, both his hands slid down to cup her waist and held her close, eyes locked unblinking on hers.
Sera looked away. Her hands pressed against his chest, trying to push him off to no avail. He had her pinned, their bodies close. But her expression didn't show embarrassment—it was the opposite. She was angry. She didn't feel threatened, she was just… furious. About something.
When struggling didn't work, she finally met his gaze head-on—and then came the slap.
Smack!
"You cheated on me... You cheated on me, didn't you?! You bastard... Disgusting... Scumbag..."
Her eyes burned into his—then, slowly, her rage began to melt into something else. Her voice cracked and fell apart.
"You... cheated... on me... You bastard... scum..."
Then she yanked his collar down and crushed her lips onto his.
And the two kissed like teenagers possessed—wild and unrestrained.
Sera jolted awake.
There was drool trailing from the corner of her mouth.
"...."
She blinked a few times, wiping away her eye crust.
It had been a dream!
The image of Mickey Mannix's face from the dream was still burned into her mind. And the weirdest part? She could remember every detail vividly.
What kind of dream was that?
Sera didn't even know why she was spouting that nonsense in it. Why was she mad at Mickey for "cheating" on her? What was that about? And why—why—had she pulled him in like that?
She had no clue.
It wasn't even the first time she'd dreamed of Mickey. Back when she was recovering from the Aquarium fight, she'd had another dream—where she kicked him between the legs and made him beg for his life.
But this dream? This one was chaotic, random beyond comprehension. She couldn't even tell where it had taken place—some bridge, maybe?
She wiped off her drool with a tissue and tossed it aside. Then she glanced around.
Everyone else was gone—except for Mickey Mannix, sitting right next to her, sketching something in his notebook.
"!?"
Sera flinched.
She'd just dreamed of him—and now he was right there?!
"....."
Her heart pounded so loudly she could feel it in her chest.
Mickey turned and met her eyes… still sketching casually.
"....."
"...Have we arrived yet?"
It was the first thing she'd said to him since boarding the plane.
"Not yet."
She leaned out to check. Sure enough, the others were seated further up, but she couldn't hear what they were doing.
"...Oh."
Sera didn't know what else to say. But staying silent felt worse, somehow.
"...Drawing again?"
"Yeah."
He didn't even glance up.
Feeling a bit more relaxed, she pressed on.
"What are you drawing now?"
She peeked over and saw it—a portrait of herself, napping in her seat, but rendered in Mickey's signature chaotic ambient style.
"..."
Once, she would've snapped with a sarcastic "Drawing me again, huh?" or something just as snide. But not after learning what Mickey really was—a diagnosed psychopath.
Roxxy insisted he was still "normal," but Sera couldn't stop herself from imagining the worst...
Drawing her = Marking the next target.
That thought wouldn't leave her, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.
He's normal... He's normal... We've spent days together. That's proof, right?
"Still scared of me?"
"!?"
Mickey was still Mickey. He could read her like a book.
"....."
"Talking shit about me in your dreams now? That's a bit much."
"What the hell are you talking about, Mannix?"
"..."
Mickey looked up and locked eyes with her.
"You realize you talk in your sleep, right?"
"?!?!?!"
If she were a cat, her ears would've shot straight up.
"...What did I say?"
"Oh... you know..."
Then he mimicked her voice:
"Mannix... you bastard... disgusting piece of crap..." Something like that."
"..."
Sera's heart dropped to the floor. If he heard that... that meant—
Wait. She had to be sure.
"...And? Was there anything else?"
"...Not really, I guess."
Phew...
"...You hate me now, huh?"
"Who wouldn't be suspicious, you freak?"
"Sigh I shouldn't have told you."
"No! You totally should've! And you should've told me sooner too!"
"What difference would that make? I'm still me either way."
Mickey went on.
"The doctor said it's kind of a miracle I grew up normal in such a toxic environment. That's enough for me."
He finished his drawing—and handed her the sketch.
"...."
"Critique, please."
He propped his chin up on one hand with a sly smirk, eyes gleaming with mischief. It was the kind of look that made Sera want to smack him square in the temple.
The drawing in her hand was rich in detail and textures—clearly, Mickey had spent a good amount of time on it.
She stared at it, genuinely intrigued.
As someone who appreciated art, Sera had to admit Mickey had skill. She was starting to understand his stylistic patterns too. His illustrations were often chaotic, layered, full of overlapping elements—his own kind of ambient storytelling.
That was her honest thought, but naturally, her pride wouldn't let her say it out loud.
"...Am I... merging with the seat or something? Gross."
"...Kinda."
"Why do you always draw stuff all wrapped up and tangled like that?"
"...I just felt like drawing it."
"...Got any techniques or tricks?"
"...If I don't like it, I erase and draw again."
"Ugh, boring answer, Mannix."
After a while of staring at it, she placed the drawing beside her.
"You giving this to me?"
"...Yeah..."
"....."
She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through Instagram absentmindedly—until the corner of her eye caught something strange.
Mickey... was also looking at her Instagram.
But on his own phone.
"Hey—"
"...?"
"Hey hey hey hey hey!"
Sera instantly dropped her phone and lunged, snatching his device out of his hand.
"Hey! I set my account to private—how the hell are you seeing my feed?! Wait—what the hell?!"
She examined his phone closely and realized he was using some kind of alternate account. But the interface wasn't even Instagram's. It looked more like a hacking app—something sketchy, almost custom-made.
"This! This is hacking, damn it!"
"Hacking? Don't be dramatic. It's my own account. Just not the Instagram app. More like… peeking into your house and checking your feed through the window."
"That's literally the same thing, you perv!"
Mickey calmly took his phone back, scrolling through her old posts right in front of her.
"You post every day. Even yesterday."
"You asshole! This is a complete violation of privacy!"
"We're way past pretending to care about that, don't you think?"
"Ugh..."
She glared at him, eyes burning, as he continued scrolling casually.
"You really love mirror selfies, huh? Kinda basic..."
"Excuse me?! Mind your damn business!"
Okay… he wasn't wrong. Like many stylish, confident young women, Sera often posted photos showing off her figure—tight outfits, bare shoulders, a flash of waist here and there. She'd never had a problem flaunting it, not even when guy friends or thirsty followers flooded her comments.
But this was different.
Why did she suddenly feel… flustered?
Maybe because it was Mickey looking. And for some reason, that made it weird.
And then it happened.
He scrolled far enough to reach her cringe-worthy middle school era—around 8th grade—and started reading her old captions.
"Drinking to forget..."
He let out a stifled laugh as he came across one of her old moody selfies, trying way too hard to be deep.
"Hah—"
Mickey chuckled under his breath. Sera, meanwhile, had totally forgotten she'd ever posted something like that.
Memories from her most awkward, try-hard phase came rushing back. Her face flushed red, her skin prickled.
"Laughing… What were you trying to forget at 14? Your times tables? "
"...Stop it!!!"
Sera pounced, red-faced and furious. She reached for his phone with full force, clawing and grabbing wildly.
"I give you one chance to stop this, Mannix! Just one! Give me the damn phone!"
She climbed over the seats, practically mauling him in an effort to pry it from his hands. Mickey was laughing the whole time.
"Look, this one's gold. If you don't understand my silence, then you don't deserve my words."
"Give it here!!!! You little—!!!"
"Okay okay, I'm done scrolling."
"I'm deleting everything!"
"Everything? That'll take a while."
"I don't care!!!"
Sera snatched his phone, stuffed it into her bag, and stormed back to her seat with her hips swaying in outrage. She immediately opened her own phone and began purging old posts with fury.
"...My phone..."
"Shut up!"
He got barked at. Sera continued deleting.
After a few minutes passed and her temper cooled a bit, Mickey spoke again.
"See? Nothing's changed."
"..."
Sera stuck her tongue out at him before going back to mass-deleting cringe from her timeline.
But with the sheer volume of posts to comb through, the thought "Maybe I'll do this later…" started creeping into her mind.
"....."
"You snoop through people's Instagram like that—what, you think that's okay? That's seriously messed up."
"...Still mad?"
Click. Sera clicked her tongue.
"You brought this on yourself."
"Shut it."
She closed her eyes, massaging her temples and sighing long and hard. But when she looked back up—there he was again, stretching out a hand to scroll his own feed… on her screen. That he no longer even had possession of.
He was still doing it.
And he scrolled all the way to a photo from when Sera was in her junior year of high school—sitting on a beach somewhere.
"...Ooh..."
"What now?"
She braced herself for the next round of trolling.