SkyNani: Who is the Enigma?

They drove like fire was licking at their heels.

Sky gripped the wheel with one hand, his other resting near the gear, tense and ready. Beside him, Dew stared out the window, his fists clenched, phone in hand—silent. In the backseat, Bright kept refreshing his contacts, voice tight each time he called a name, asked for help, received nothing.

They checked the alleys behind the student center. The park by the dorms. The under-construction buildings where no lights flickered.

"Seen this guy?" Bright held out his phone to a group of students loitering by a food cart, showing Nani's picture.

One of them squinted, shook his head.

"What about these two?" Dew asked, voice sharp, tapping to a photo of Jim and Marc.

Another shrug. "Haven't seen 'em, man. What's this about?"

They didn't answer.

Next stop—rooftop of the old science building. Then a karaoke bar the guys used to sneak into. Then the practice rooms. They knocked on doors, showed faces, asked again and again.

Nothing.

Time bled away. It was nearly midnight.

Each place they searched only made the silence louder.

Sky leaned on the hood of his car, head bowed low, breath visible in the cold night air. His jaw clenched tight enough to ache. His mind was spinning a storm he couldn't shut off.

What if they drugged him?

What if they—

No. No.

He pushed off the car, hands buried in his pockets. "Let's check the riverbank," he muttered.

They walked fast, sneakers crunching on gravel and pavement. A dog barked in the distance. Somewhere, a siren passed and faded.

Nothing.

Again.

The weight was crushing.

And then—Dew crouched on the sidewalk. Not because he found something—but because his knees wouldn't hold him anymore.

His shoulders shook once. Then twice.

His fingers dug into his own hair, gripping tight.

"What if..." His voice cracked. "What if they're hurting him right now?"

Bright didn't speak. He looked away.

Sky turned around slowly, chest rising and falling too fast. He stared at Dew, then at the empty road stretching ahead, and something just snapped inside him.

He turned to his car, lifted his leg—and kicked the tire with all the force he had.

"FUCK!" he roared into the cold.

It echoed through the empty street like thunder.

He stepped back, hands on his hips, trembling.

His eyes were glassy—haunted with every nightmare his brain had conjured in the last few hours. Nani's quiet voice. The way he'd smile without smiling. His hands. His small frame.

Sky's throat tightened.

Where the hell was he?

Where was Nani?

And what were they doing to him?

_

They sat on the curb, the cold biting their skin. No one said anything for a while.

Just silence.

And somewhere in it, Sky felt himself slipping into memory.

He used to watch Nani when he was concentrating on something—how his lower lip would jut out slightly, unbothered and unaware. That little pout of his wasn't something he did to be cute. He didn't even know it was happening. He'd squint down at his notebook, and his brow would furrow and the corner of his lip would twitch, just barely.

And when he laughed... God, when he laughed—

The sound was so sudden, so warm, like windchimes crashing in sunlight.

It never failed to knock the air out of Sky's lungs.

He would hide his face after. Get shy. A little wave of his hand. Shoulders up to his ears. "Don't laugh at me laughing," he'd say, flustered.

Sky didn't laugh.

He just watched.

Like someone memorizing a miracle.

And now—

Now his hands were empty.

Now the street was too quiet.

And he would've given anything to hear that laughter again.

—

Beside him, Dew's fists were still clenched. His eyes down on the ground. But his thoughts had drifted too.

Nani.

No matter what happened to him—no matter how dark the night before—Nani always stood up straight the next morning.

He never asked anyone to carry the weight for him. He just took it and smiled. Maybe a little slower than usual. Maybe his eyes a little red. But he never let it break him.

He was small, yeah. Fragile-looking.

But inside—he was steel.

Steel with a pink hoodie and soft hands. Dew could still picture the way he'd tilt his head when he was confused. The way his mouth would open slightly, lips parted just enough to ask a question he hadn't found the words for yet.

He looked like he was carved for gentleness.

But he wasn't soft.

He was strong. Stronger than anyone ever gave him credit for.

Cute and capable. Strong and delicate. The kind of contradiction that made your chest hurt just thinking about it.

Dew's throat burned.

Where was he now?

And why the hell did this world always try to break people like him?

A/N: Guess what happened to Nani?

*sorry just trying to follow grabfood...heh heh