Page 48 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

POST-MISSION DISCOVERY: During furniture restoration operations, operative located something wedged under cushions. Item: black hoodie, size medium, faint vanilla scent detected.

TACTICAL OPPORTUNITY IDENTIFIED: Hoodie return provides legitimate excuse for target interaction.

LESSONS LEARNT: Target enjoys fantasy epics and will socialise under specific circumstances. Also: fitted T-shirts should be classified as dangerous to operative’s concentration levels.

RECOMMENDATION FOR FUTURE OPS: Develop courage to execute hoodie return mission before target notices missing garment.

ADDENDUM - 12th August 2026

Mission parameters have deteriorated significantly. Hoodie return operation postponed indefinitely due to operative’s complete failure to execute basic human interaction. Item currently located in operative’s bedroom.

Target observed wearing numerous other hoodies. No indication of awareness regarding missing item.

Recommend immediate return before situation becomes irreversibly compromising.

Operative’s moral compass appears to have malfunctioned entirely.

15

Felix

“Are you sure they’re not waiting for us somewhere else?”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, scanning the crowd streaming past North Greenwich Station. The evening air carried that particular London mix of exhaust fumes and fried food from the nearby stalls, making my stomach clench with nerves I’d been fighting all day. My phone showed 18:47, and we’d been standing for nearly twenty minutes.

Lily rolled her eyes so dramatically I was surprised they didn’t fall out of her head. “No. They’ll be here soon, Felix! People are allowed to be slightly late.”

She was practically vibrating with excitement, clutching her SEVENTEEN lightstick like it might disappear if she let go. I’d refused to buy one. Forty quid for a glorified torch had seemed excessive, even if it did sync with the music.

“I just think we all should’ve got here earlier,” I muttered, pulling at my hoodie. Everyone else around us had dressed up for this. My black fabric felt like armour against the army of glittery teenage girls already gathering around us. “The queue’s going to be mental.”

“Felix, chill. We’ve got floor tickets. We’re golden.”

Floor tickets. Great. Standing room only, crushed against thousands of screaming fans, no escape route if things got overwhelming. I’d have paid double for a nice safe seat at the back where I could slip out unnoticed if needed. But Lily had been so thrilled when she’d managed to snag these supposedly most coveted ones.

“Don’t forget to be nice to my friends,” Lily said, her tone playfully warning. “You know, like talk to them once or twice. They don’t bite.”

I groaned. Had she briefed them ahead of this? I could practically hear it: “So, just so you know, my brother is super lovely, but he can be a bit quiet. It helps if you’re really chatty with him.”

The thought made me want to die. Was she embarrassed by me? Did she think I’d just stand there like a mute statue while her mates tried to make conversation?

Unfortunately, there was a fifty percent chance of exactly that happening.

Oh, why did Wren’s great-aunt have to die?!

“There they are!” Lily squealed, waving frantically at two girls emerging from the escalator. One had bright pink streaks in her dark hair, the other was wearing an oversized white SEVENTEEN T-shirt featuring their diamond logo and “CARAT” written in bold letters underneath.

“Lily!” Pink Hair shrieked, launching herself into my sister’s arms.

They hugged like they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of probably yesterday at uni. The other girl joined the embrace, and I took a careful step back, hoping distance might save me from whatever social interaction was about to happen.

No such luck.

They disengaged from their group hug and turned to me with identical bright smiles. My face must have been doing something unfortunate because Lily’s elbow connected sharply with my ribs.

“This is Felix, my brother,” Lily said. “Felix, this is Jess and Mia.”

Jess—Pink Hair—extended her arms towards me, clearly expecting a hug. I could feel my shoulders creeping up towards my ears, my hands shoving deeper into my hoodie pocket. Physical contact with strangers ranked somewhere between root canal surgery and public speaking on my list of things I’d rather avoid.