Just Don't Go...

"Ah, I'm exhausted..." Bianca trudged back to her room after meeting Shasha and Emily. She haphazardly stripped off her annoying clothes, tossing them aside before flopping onto the bed. Burying her face in the fluffy pillow, she ruffled her hair with one hand, trying to think of a solution—but nothing came to mind, so she let out a long sigh. Though she couldn't see her own face, she could feel it twisting into a miserable pout. Lately, her mood had been nothing but gloomy.

Bianca fiddled absentmindedly with the necklace around her neck—the one Carlyle had given her. She pulled the doll on her bed, another gift from him, into a tight hug. But her spirits didn't lift one bit.

That jerk Carlyle... Her tangled thoughts were filled only with him, so she bit her lip lightly. If he were here right now, she'd want to punch him over and over. But truthfully, she just wanted to cling to him. If she grabbed him and burst into tears, begging him not to go, would he change his mind? She had her pride, and she wasn't that immature—but she was reaching her limit.

She'd been deliberately cold to him lately, making it obvious she was sulking, for no other reason than this: all the precious things in her life, all the happy memories, had come to revolve around him without her realizing it. That's how irreplaceable he'd become. So why? It was so hard to accept. Logically, she understood, but she didn't want to. Did he really have to go? Couldn't he just stay?

Without you, Carlyle, I... It felt like she'd fall apart. Sure, she'd get by day to day somehow, but she'd be utterly drained. Not just a few days—a whole half year? Maybe even a year? Bianca's vision went dark at the thought. The future seemed impossibly distant. She might not focus on anything, overwhelmed by how much she'd miss him. His low, rumbling laugh in her ear, his broad, warm embrace. That strangely addictive scent of his, the little thoughtful gestures unique to him. Memories flooded her: lounging together, cuddling while watching anime; strolling the campus hand in hand like the perfect couple.

Even sharing lunch and dissolving into laughter over pointless chit-chat.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just... you're too cute."

Her face always heated up at words like that—embarrassed, but undeniably pleased.

"...I've always been cute, you know."

"Bianca, you've gotten cocky lately."

"So treat me right."

Even those meaningless exchanges—she knew she'd miss them. Life ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠without Carlyle by her side would be unbearable. But what about him?

...Doesn't it bother you the same way?

Hanging out with Shasha and Emily had been a nice distraction, but honestly, it hadn't helped at all.

"Haaah..." Bianca sighed again. Yeah, she knew. No one else could help with this. Not even his girlfriend—herself—could fix it, especially with how stubborn he was. She'd just met her friends to vent her frustration. It had been a whole year already since she and Carlyle started dating. Well, a year and two months, so they were pretty solid now. They'd spent it all so sweetly—barely any arguments, no real fights. Stuck to each other like glue on campus.

"Carlyle, over here!"

"Haven't had lunch yet, right?"

"Nope, been waiting for you."

Ignoring prying eyes, she'd melt into his arms or grin and loop her arm through his.

What's wrong with showing off what's mine? That's how Bianca had always been—fueled by her innate confidence and her resolve to be honest about her feelings.

Even though I used to be a guy... I know the score. Most guys love girls who express themselves openly. So she'd poured her heart out to him—the one who'd made her choose this path as a woman. Arm in arm on campus strolls, she'd always murmur shyly,

"...I like it, Carlyle."

"What do you like?"

"Just you."

She never hid that she was Carlyle's girlfriend, that he was hers. She'd flaunted it shamelessly, earning them the campus label of "corny couple" against her better judgment.

That had successfully warded off any vixens eyeing her hot boyfriend in advance—something no one else knew about.

Bet they didn't see that coming... Of course, it wasn't that she didn't trust Carlyle. Never. They just clicked so well—almost never fought, always making each other ridiculously happy. A year and two months of that endless affection, his hunger for her—it always thrilled Bianca. She could read it in his golden eyes. When his hand stroked her hair, she'd smile without thinking. Nestled in his broad chest, she never wanted to leave.

I used to be a guy once... But now she was just a girl, with zero regrets about her choice. She was content—blissfully so—to be right there beside Carlyle Schultz. Her heart was full every day. That's why it stung even more.

"You have no idea how lucky you are... I've been trying so hard..." Muttering to herself, it was all because she was hurt. How could he leave a girlfriend like her—who tried so damn hard—for study abroad? She knew she couldn't follow; her major demanded she stay here. That's why it hurt double. Why so much? Because he'd become her whole world, yet she wasn't quite that to him. Maybe that's it. Did he really, truly have to go? Couldn't there be another way if he felt the same?

Bianca kept murmuring it aloud. "Really, you jerk..."

Carlyle Schultz had dropped the study abroad bombshell just days ago. They'd been at a nice restaurant for dinner when, after hemming and hawing, he finally spoke.

"I'm going abroad. Shortest case, half a year. Could stretch to a year."

"Huh? Abroad...?" The shock hit her so hard she couldn't process it.

"S-suddenly...?"

He'd gone on with a long explanation, but her confusion soured the evening into disaster.

"Talk to me, Bianca."

"...No. Don't contact me for a while."

Overwhelmed and hurt in the moment, that's what she'd said—and the cold war began. Carlyle kept reaching out steadily: texts the first day, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠calls after. She'd ignored at first but couldn't hold out, answering every time but mostly staying silent, sulking hard. Still, he chattered on patiently.

"Sorry, Bianca. It's the department curriculum, and I'm top of the class..."

"I only found out recently about going early for early graduation."

"What can you do when your boyfriend's too perfect?" Even tossing in jokes. But Bianca couldn't play along. Sure, she should be proud of her talented guy—but she couldn't muster it.

I know, I get it... She hated her own childishness. It felt like she was the girlfriend holding him back—ridiculous and unsettling, even if she knew better. Deep down, she just hated being apart, so in her petty but desperate heart, she hoped her pouting would make him reconsider, find another way. But days passed, and she realized it was pointless. She couldn't keep this up—it was hurting her more. Pushing him away felt like withdrawal. Craving his embrace, his touch, drained her. Every night, she thought of him. It wasn't trivial; sulking wouldn't change his plans. Yeah, so. She still resented him, still hurt—but this wasn't right.

Yeah, it's not. No time for pride or grudges. He'd leave next month as planned—every moment now was precious. Time to meet Carlyle, talk it out one last time. She wasn't optimistic he'd change his mind, but rationally, she accepted he had to go.

Just be honest. Throw some aegyo at him? Yeah, like her friends said—straight-up honest.

Screw it, just cling! Resolved, Bianca threw on clothes in a rush. She grabbed her phone to text him when—ding!

The cozy little café in the neighborhood they'd visited once before. They just synced so well. Bianca fired back an angry emoji, then added,

"Wait there."

She couldn't help it—her heart fluttered instantly. She'd been about to reach out, and here he was. That connected feeling.

"Doesn't change that you're a jerk..." Grumbling, she checked the mirror anyway. She didn't notice her lips curving into a smile.

This looks good enough. Shoving her feet into shoes, Bianca dashed out.

Carlyle waited for her. An instant reply—first time in days. Good, maybe Bianca had sorted her feelings? He couldn't back out; it was the curriculum, best for his future.

I've been explaining that nonstop... Truthfully, she'd understood logically from the start. He got why she'd be upset—he'd be too.

Yeah, I would. Her snag was probably the early timing due to his grades—ironic.

"Gotta go a semester early for early graduation."

"Oh... really?"

He'd been shocked by the professor too, so her reaction was fair. His fault for not giving more notice—too buried in research and assignments. Careless. But glad she'd come around. When would she arrive? Carlyle had been parched lately too. Missing his girlfriend. Cute, pure, full of aegyo and affection. Above all, she loved him. Bianca Shama's love shone in those amethyst eyes—no one else could know that thrill. Her small, soft body fitting perfectly in his arms.

"I love you, Carlyle."

That clear voice whispering in his ear—heart-wrenching. Honestly, he'd been going crazy missing her. She needed time to process, wouldn't meet; ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he'd been prepping a consolation gift too.

Just days apart, and I'm like this... Study abroad would be hell. Sigh. Luckily, it was only a half-day trip.

Weekends tough, but holidays—I’ll make it work. Carlyle was determined. Waiting on the street by the café, suddenly someone crashed into him—thud! Bianca flung herself at him. Right in the middle of the alley, no cares for stares.

"Just... don't go...?"

Fresh fruity scent, soft body—her voice plaintive. Carlyle froze at the onlookers but soon stroked her head. She tightened her grip, rubbing her small head against him desperately. He'd missed this—but unavoidable.

"You know, Bianca."

"...I'll call you honey. O-oppa too...! Whatever you want."

Carlyle blinked, startled.

"Huh...? No good?"

Bianca always used his name. He'd once half-jokingly, half-seriously suggested "honey" or "oppa"—nearly a year ago, at her family home. Turns out she was younger by months; technically, he was oppa.

"Call me oppa once."

"You're insane...?"

Too cringey, she'd refused flat-out. But now,

"Yeah? Honey. No, Carlyle oppa."

With desperate, pleading eyes—face flushing with embarrassment, but pushing through.

"Really... can't you just not go...?"

When had Bianca Shama gotten so seductive? Carlyle had no clue.

This... the power... Rarely flustered, he almost nodded—then coughed dryly.

"...B-Bianca. That's cheating."

"So? Answer me."

Silence, and she pouted, pulling away with a huff.

"That actually hurt just now... and even this doesn't work?"

"It was dangerous..."

Carlyle chuckled; Bianca punched his chest.

Annoying jerk. Infuriating.

"Never calling you that again. Oppa? Honey? Dream on."

"Wait, Bianca..."

"Jerk, rotten guy... You said you'd take responsibility."

"I will. That's why I'm going."

Always with the smooth lines.

I know, I know... She got his seriousness for their future—he'd explained plenty. Punching took no energy now.

"Let's go home first."

He hugged her again, petting her hair. Bianca leaned in, whining,

"Then why call me here?"

"Something to pick up. Café's no good for talking."

He ducked inside briefly, emerging with a medium bag—like a case, wrapped in soft cloth.

Bianca eyed it curiously. "...What's that?"

"Sleeping now."

Handling it so delicately, suspiciously.

"What is it, really."

"I'll show you at home. It's for you."

Gift? Whatever. Bianca snorted. Nothing would sway her.

Don't need gifts. Just you... Still sulking, biting her lip—but she didn't shake off his hand. Warm, reassuring. Not unwelcome.

...I'm too weak to this guy. Sighing deeply, she walked on, hand in his. Soon, they entered her place. Carlyle had been here dozens—hundreds?—of times. He hung his jacket on the rack, sat on the living room sofa.

"Come here, Bianca."

Infuriating, but she didn't refuse. Something prepared, but no expectations. No gift could fix this ache, this hurt.

"Look."

But when Carlyle unwrapped the cloth... a glimpse of tiny brown fluff made Bianca's eyes widen.

So tiny and cute. Fluffy brown fur looked impossibly soft. Breathing softly in oblivious sleep—a puppy. Bianca was speechless.

"What... is this...?"

Carlyle smiled. "You said you wanted a dog."

Yeah, about a month ago—casually.

"Hey, Carlyle. Should I get a dog...?"

Since becoming a girl, she melted for cute things. More each day.

"Look, so cute...? Tiny like a cotton ball."

Way more than when she was a guy. That day, gushing over toy poodle pups in a video. Wanted one, but hadn't acted.

Someday, when the time's right... And here was the exact breed from that video.

"So... small..."

Bianca couldn't look away. Ridiculously tiny, cute toy poodle. Needed protecting; made her want to pet it endlessly.

"Cute, right...?"

Bianca nodded slowly. Insanely so. She'd held her breath without realizing.

She reached tentatively—then paused, meeting Carlyle's eyes.

"...W-what do I do? Too cute to touch."

"Then touch it."

"No, I mean..."

Mid-chat, reality hit.

Wait... This wasn't the flow. Her mood shouldn't melt like this.

Yeah, not over something like... But too cute. Irresistible.

"Too... cute..."

Her expression control slipped—voice excited, cheeks flushing.

"This for me to raise...?"

"Yeah. Vacation's soon anyway."

Blessedly, break was near—plenty of time for a pup.

"But when classes start..."

"You'll have free time. School's close enough."

Bianca nodded slowly.

"Might get lonely... That's my worry."

"Ask Emily."

"Yeah, good idea."

Emily had dog experience—sure to help. Hesitating, eyes glued to the pup, Bianca murmured,

"Still, just this isn't..."

"One more."

About to say it wasn't enough—Carlyle handed over crisp papers from his pocket. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The top line froze her solid.

"Marriage... registration...?" His signature already there. Just hers, and...

Suddenly enveloped—whole body trapped in his broad, firm chest.

"Bianca."

Low, hot voice in her ear. Carlyle was overwhelmed—heart pounding like mad. Good she hadn't noticed his trembling hand offering the papers. Holding his girlfriend, he whispered,

"Sorry, Bianca. But for you, for me—going abroad is right."

"...That's for me?"

"I promised to take responsibility."

He had.

"Necessary for us."

Carlyle wanted to succeed as a man, a future head of household. He knew Bianca would thrive regardless—even post-abroad, it'd be partnership, not him providing. But he wanted to be proud, protect her as her pillar.

"They won't let me graduate without it. Gotta graduate, right?"

Petting her hair, poking playfully, he joked lightly.

"Even a few days without you kills me."

She laughed disbelievingly, then pouted tearfully.

"...Then don't go."

"Have to."

Coaxing her whimpers,

"Wait for me, Bianca."

"I know. But really, I..."

"...I'll give you certainty."

Carlyle Schultz declared. Marriage papers for assurance. They'd be legal before he left. Not stopping there.

"When I return from abroad, let's get married."

Sudden words blanked her mind.

"Let's marry."

Carlyle Schultz said.