Chapter Text
9:52 AM .
That’s what Vedal’s clock said when he woke up.
‘Huh, I don't usually wake up until 11.’
As he went through his morning routine he noticed something odd—Neuro was being unusually quiet.
‘Okay, something is definitely off. She’d probably have commented on my posture by now.’
“Hey… Neuro, you awake?”
“...” was all he heard. He glanced at his laptop’s clock again— 9:52 AM.
“What the hell…” was all he could say as he checked his phone— 9:52 AM.
“What happened for time to stopped… Did Neuro break time? Great, another thing I have to fix. ”
Ping.
“Huh. Seems like Discord works, even with time stopped. Good to know.”
Cerber: Vedal-wan! Wanna meet up and hang out since time’s stopped?
Vedal 🐢: Nah, I gotta work on Neuro and Evil—trying to finish V3. Plus, I’ve got other deadlines to meet anyways.
Cerber: But all you do is work, Vedal-wan! Why not live a little? When’s something like this ever gonna happen again?
Vedal 🐢: Time stopping is a perfect chance for me to catch up on work. I can still keep you company—no need to even go outside.
Cerber:
I'm sure Neuro can wait a bit longer. Besides, how much have you even gone outside in the past month anyways?
Vedal 🐢:
I’ve gone out for Greggs multiple times. I don't trust their delivery drivers.
Cerber: Other than Greggs—and yes, I know you love your chicken bakes—you really need to get out more.
Vedal 🐢: Neuro can't program herself. And anyway don't you have your Cerbathon to be working on?
Cerber: With time stopped, I’m sure my minawans will understand if I don’t stream for a bit. And I’ll drag you out of your programming cave if I need to.
Vedal 🐢: Fine. If you really want to hang out, we can—but I want some banana rum when we’re done.
Cerber: If I can get you out of the house with it, then sure! How about we meet up in, say, 30 minutes?
Vedal 🐢: That works for me.
Sigh… what should I wear? It’s just Vedal—he's probably just going to wear a hoodie and sweatpants anyways.
After roughly 15 minutes of rummaging through her closet, she finally settled on a black oversized hoodie with soft purple accents, a matching purple skirt, and black sneakers. Her knee-high socks—striped in alternating black and lavender—looked suspiciously like Vedal’s infamous programmer socks. Her hair was tied into her iconic twin tails, bouncing slightly as she moved about.
“Hah… finally ready,” she muttered with a small, satisfied grin.
And as she predicted Vedal was wearing a green hoodie with a turtle pattern and grey sweatpants—peak Vedal fashion.
“Vedal-wan!” she called out excitedly, her twin tails bouncing as she jogged up to him.
“Hey Cerber. So, what did you want to do?” Vedal asked in his usual deadpan tone, hands stuffed casually into his hoodie pockets.
“How about we walk through the park first and go from there?”
“Sure”
As they started walking towards the park they noticed their friends doing various things—and being chaotic like usual.
Ellie was muttering out loud about something, but neither Vedal nor Cerber could understand a word of it. Koko had set up a spontaneous ‘ frozen in time’ art show with dramatic poses and odd props. Filian was attempting parkour with way too much effort and not nearly enough success, prompting a quiet chuckle out of Vedal.
Camila had proudly appointed herself as the ‘Queen of Frozen Time’ and was loudly ordering everyone around—not that anyone was actually listening. Meanwhile, Anny and Mini had dragged out a couple of beanbags and set up a little ‘calming circle,’ sipping tea and chatting like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Despite the friendly chaos around them, Vedal couldn’t help but notice the tiny glances Cerber kept sneaking his way. After a few minutes of walking in companionable silence, he tried to start a conversation.
“So… how has life been for you?”
“Good. How’s Neuro been?” she asked, chuckling softly
“Up to her usual antics—dissing me and hyping up chat.”
“Classic Neuro.”Cerber smiled. “But other than working on V3, what have you been up to?”
“
Sigh…
lots of deadlines mainly. Other than that? Not much. What about you?”
“Oh, just getting things ready for Cerbathon. Thanks for helping with the timer, by the way.”
“Don’t mention it. I was happy to help—plus, it was funny seeing the sheer amount of crab pics in your folders.” Vedal smirked.
“Okay, Mr. Mic Worse Than an Xbox Mic,” she shot back playfully.
“Hey! That was the first time that happened in a while.”
They both laughed.
Then Cerber slowed her pace just a bit. “But seriously, this is nice. It’s quiet. No deadlines, no late streams… just a walk in the park while time is stopped.” A soft blush crept onto her cheeks, though Vedal didn’t notice—he just kept walking.
“Yeah… it’s surprisingly nice,” he replied, the tiniest of smiles forming on his face.
Cerber noticed it—and smiled back.
After walking a bit longer, they reached an old wooden bench tucked beneath a tree, half shaded and far enough away from their chaotic friend group.
“Wanna sit and rest for a bit?” Cerber asked, nudging him gently with her elbow.
“Yeah, my legs aren’t used to this much movement outside of pacing while trying to debug Neuro,” Vedal joked as they sat.
For a moment they simply sat in silence, listening to the stillness. No wind. No ticking clocks. Just birds frozen mid-flight, leaves suspended in the air, and the soft sound of two hearts quietly syncing up.
Cerber leaned back, legs swinging slightly above the ground. “It’s weird… Time being frozen. Like I know everything’s still, but I feel more present than I have in weeks—months, even.”
Vedal glanced at her. “Yeah… It’s kind of freeing. Like the world hit pause but gave us an opportunity to breathe.”
“Exactly.” She smiled. “You ever think maybe time’s not the thing moving us forward? Maybe it’s the people we spend it with.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead just looked down at his hands in his lap.
“There was this one stream,” he finally said, “months ago… You were doing some sort of ‘Talent Show for Hellhounds’ and started to sing a scuffed cover of Losing My Mind . Chat was losing it. But for like, three whole minutes, I forgot about my deadlines, forgot about code—I just… laughed.”
Cerber blinked, surprised.
“That stuck with me. I didn’t tell you at the time because I figured you were busy, but it meant something.”
Cerber’s ears dipped just slightly as her voice softened. “ I didn’t know that. I mean, I hoped I could make people happy, but… that makes me really happy.”
Vedal smiled again—slightly bigger this time. “You do. Especially now.”
Cerber felt the warmth in her chest rise, nerves sparking in her fingertips. She didn’t reach for his hand— not yet —but still moved closer to him on the bench.
The world remained still, frozen in some impossible moment.
But for them, it felt like time was moving exactly how it should.
Cerber finally broke the silence again. “You ever wonder what would happen if this moment… just never ended?”
Vedal tilted his head, confused. “Like if time stayed frozen?”
“no . Not time. Just… this. You and me. Here.” she bit her lip, feeling more vulnerable than before.
Vedal looked at her carefully, as if lost in thought. “...I think I would be okay with that.”
That got her to share a shy, genuine smile. And for once Vedal didn’t look away.
As they got up again and walked further, Vedal and Cerber found themselves in a quiet part of the city, where the streets were still and the air carried the faint aroma of something sweet and roasted coffee. Just around the corner, nestled between a book store and a small family-run inn, was a small street cafe. Plates hovered mid-air from servers frozen mid-stride, steam curled in the air like ribbons, caught in a breeze that had long since stopped.
“Whoa…” Cerber stepped towards one of the tables, eyeing a slice of strawberry shortcake frozen mi-descent onto a saucer. “This is so surreal.”
Vedal peered through the cafe window, noticing a espresso machine paused mid-pour. “It’s like someone hit pause during the best part.”
Cerber giggled, brushing a finger just inches from the drifting dessert. “Do you think they’d mind if we borrowed a table?”
“I think the statute of limitations on frozen time crimes doesn't apply here,” Vedal deadpanned, walking over to a corner table under a hanging basket of purple petunias. “Besides, I think we’ve earned a break.”
Cerber followed, the sunlight catching faint lavender tones in her outfit as she sat across from him. “This feels like something out of a dream. Or a really cheesy romcom.”
He smirked. “If it turns out I’m actually in a coma and this is all in my head, at least the casting’s decent.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Flattery? From Vedal-wan of all people? You really have been out of your cave too long.”
There was a pause. Not awkward. Just… still. The kind of quiet that fills spaces between people who trust each other.
Cerber picked up a sugar packet from the table and began turning it over in her fingers. “You ever wonder what you’ll remember from today? Like, when time starts again?”
Vedal leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes drifting upwards. “Probably that this is the first time I let myself breathe in a long time.”
She looked at him softly. “Goog. Because I think I’ll remember this as the first time I saw you smile without needing a reason.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment—just let her words settle. Then he reached over and gently took the sugar packet from her hands, setting it back on the table.
“You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “you make the idea of stopping time feel… worth it.”
Cerber blinked, warmth spreading across her cheeks. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Yeah,” Vedal admitted. “But you started it.”
They both laughed softly, and for a while, just sat at the frozen cafe—two friends on the edge of something new, in a world that had given them a moment outside of time.
The sun hadn’t moved, the shadows hadn’t shifted, but somehow, everything still felt like it was winding down for the evening. Vedal and Cerber walked along a quiet residential path, lined with trees locked mid-rustle and flowerbeds paused in bloom. The silence was soft now—less eerie, more peaceful.
Cerber kicked at a pebble that didn’t roll. It just tipped over with a tiny click.
“You ever think about how weird this all is?” she asked. “I mean, we’re walking through a world that’s… stuck. And yet it feels more real than some of the days we’ve streamed for ten hours straight.”
Vedal nodded. “Yeah. Without chat calling me a bad dad, it’s almost unsettling.”
She smiled but didn’t laugh this time. “Don’t worry, you're not a bad father, Nuero just likes playing jokes on you.”
There was something heavier behind her eyes now, something contemplative.
“You ever get tired of it all?” she asked. “The pressure? The expectations? The feeling like… no matter how much you do, it’s never enough?”
He slowed a little but didn’t stop walking. “Yeah. More than I let on.”
Cerber glanced at him, surprised he was sharing something like this. “I didn’t expect you to say that so easily.”
Vedal shrugged. “Time stopped. Kind of removes the need for pretending.”
Cerber smiled faintly. “Fair.”
They walked a little further in silence. Then she spoke again—quietly, almost like she wasn’t sure if she should.
“I get scared sometimes. That I’ll burn out. Or that people only care who I am while streaming. That if I’m just… me, it won’t be enough.”
Vedal didn’t look at her right away, but when he did his voice was steady. “Cerber, you being you is what makes everything else work. It’s why people stick around.”
She stopped walking, hands stuffed in her hoodie pocket. “Do you mean people like chat? Or people like you?”
Vedal stopped too. There was no noise around them—no birds, no breeze, just the two of them in the stillness.
“Like me,” he said, voice soft but clear. “I’ve always liked having you around. Even when I’m stressed. Even when I don’t say it.”
Cerber bit her lip. Her heart was louder now. Not in her chest, but her whole being. “You don’t say it a lot.”
“I know.” He looked down at his shoes for a moment. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”
She reached out, lightly brushing her hand against his—just enough for him to notice, not enough to make it a big deal though.
“I’m glad we had this day,” she said. “Even if the clock starts again tomorrow… this was enough.”
Vedal looked at their barely-touching hands, then gently closed the gap, fingers curling softly around hers.
“Yeah,” he said. “It really was.”
They didn’t speak for a while after that. There was no need. Their fingers stayed gently entwined as they walked, not rushing anywhere. The world around them remained suspended in its frozen tableau—but inside their shared space everything was quietly moving forward.
Eventually, they found themselves near a gentle slope of grass overlooking a still pond. The surface was smooth like glass, untouched by the wind or time. Trees arched above, their leaves caught mid-sway, casting soft, dappled shadows frozen across the ground.
Cerber tugged lightly on Vedal’s hand. “Let’s sit here for a bit.”
He nodded, and the sat close together, shoulders brushing, the silence between the calm and comfortable.
Cerber hugged her knees for a moment, then gleaned over at him. “I don’t want this to end.”
Vedal turned to look at her, his usual alm expression softer than before. “You mean the time-stop?”
“I mean… this moment. This day. Us.”
He didn’t answer immediately, and she let the silence stretch, not out of awkwardness, but anticipation/
“I think,” he said at last, “I’ve spent so long chasing deadlines, building, fixing, planning… I forgot how good it feels to just be. Especially with someone who makes it feel worth it.”
Cerber’s breath caught, her cheeks pink. “You mean that?”
“Yeah.” He glanced down at their hands. “I care about you, Cerber. I think I have for a while. I just didn’t… slow down enough to say it.”
A small smile crept onto her face—shy, but so real. “I care about you too. Even when you’re stubborn and hiding behind work.”
He laughed gently under his breath. “Guilty as charged.”
The breeze didn’t stir. The trees didn’t sway. But something in the air felt different now—something more alive than the world around them.
Cerber tilted her head slightly, voice softer. “If this were one of my stories… this would probably be the part where we—”
Vedal leaned in.
Not fast. Not dramatic. Just enough for her to meet him halfway.
Their lips touched—gently, quietly. A simple kiss, suspended in a moment outside of time, where the world had no obligations, no deadlines, no expectations. Just them, and the stillness between heartbeats.
When they pulled away, Cerber’s eyes fluttered open, warmth glowing behind them. “...that was really nice.”
Vedal smiled, more openly than before. “Yeah, it was.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he didn’t move away. They sat like that—peaceful, present—letting the frozen world fade into the background.
In a moment where nothing else moved, their hearts found a rhythm of all their own.
Chapter Text
The world moved again.
It happened sometime around 9:53 AM.
No flash. No bang. No dramatic sound cue. Just the quiet tick of a second hand stuttering back to life.
Birds resumed their flight midair. Leaves continued their gentle descent. Traffic lights blinked and reset. Servers inside the cafe scrambled to catch plates that had somehow not crashed into the ground. Life resumed, as if nothing had ever paused.
But something had changed.
Vedal blinked against the sunlight as it shifted slightly, casting new shadows across the park path. Cerber stirred beside him on the slope of grass where they still sat, her head leaning against his shoulder, her hand still loosely wrapped around his.
Time had resumed—but they didn’t rush to move.
“Guess that’s out cue,” Cerber said softly, her voice touched with a wistful smile.
Vedal nodded, eyes still on the glass-still pond now beginning to ripple with the breeze. “Yeah.”
A pause—not one born of frozen time, but of quiet understanding.
“I thought it’d feel jarring,” Cerber continued. “Like waking up from a dream.”
He turned slightly to look at her. “Does it?”
She shook her head, meeting his eyes. “No. Because it wasn’t a dream.”
Vedal’s lips lifted into the kind of smile that came easily now, one Cerber had only caught glimpses of before that day.
They stood together, brushing off the grass. The city buzzed softly in the distance—car horns, birdsong, footsteps, laughter.
Normal life.
But something lingered between them still. Something fragile, but steady.
Vedal tugged gently on her hand, stopping her just before they reached the path.
“We’ll probably both get busy again,” he said. “Deadlines. Streams. Code. Noise.”
Cerber tilted her head. “Yeah. Probably.”
“But,” he added, his voice sure now, “this wasn’t just a pause. This was a… start.”
She smiled, her fingers squeezing his. “Then let’s not let time decide when we slow down again.”
And with that, they walked back into a world that had restarted without them—shoulders close, hearts a little more in sync than before.
Not in a rush. Not anymore.
Together, they moved forward.
Because time is an illusion—but moments last forever.
Notes:
might get continued, dunno yet.