Disclaimer: I don't own Care Bears or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

Bright Heart gives up on inventing when it gets to be too much—when his head's a mess and Cheer drives him too insane to be around. She wants him to build her a kite that automatically won't work—that'll get stuck in the trees. Then she can bug Champ to help her, and Bright Heart can be sick with jealousy.

Instead, he's moping in the Forest of Feelings, which is really not fitting of a care cousin. Ironically, he doesn't care. The only thing he cares about is something he can't have, and he's watching Champ race across the field a few dozen meters away. Champ waves every so often—Bright Heart always waves back, purple cheeks red. He feels silly and he should probably leave—probably try again.

He meant to be alone. But you're never really alone in Care-a-lot, and he isn't exactly surprised that he's been followed. At least Cheer didn't follow him. Bright Heart's sitting on a particularly dense lump of cloud, wondering how he ever fell so hard. He knows it's wrong. That doesn't make it easier.

Secret's in front of him, looking bashful as ever, and he knows that she knows something. She points to her face, the side of her head, and the heart-shaped lock on her stomach. Bright Heart actually smiles; that one wasn't as difficult as usual.

I know a secret.

He nods, and she keeps going. A game of charades he's better at than the others, but not by much. She touches her ear—sounds like—and she makes a digging motion. Bright Heart frowns.

I'm dirt.

He already knew that. "...I'm hurt." He says it dully; she nods. She comes closer, her paw over her mouth, and she bends to his ear to whisper, You like someone.

For a moment, Bright Heart's chest constricts—he feels weak and can't breathe. He looks at her with wide eyes, trying to stay quiet while he asks, "Does anyone else know?" Because if they do he's in trouble—he shouldn't be like this.

But Secret shakes her pretty head, murmuring, I keep my secrets. ...But I wouldn't keep yours, if I were you.

He frowns at her; maybe she doesn't know what he's thinking. ...But then, Bright Heart doesn't have any other secrets. When she leans in again, he's afraid.

Someone likes you.

He freezes.

Really? He looks at her, eyebrows knit together in confusion. He asks, "Who?" and wonders if he misinterpreted. In Care-a-lot, everyone likes you. But she looks like she means it—like this is important. When she doesn't answer, he repeats, quieter, "Who's someone, Secret?" In the background, Champ Bear has stopped running. He's panting in the distance, taking a rest and watching them.

Secret giggles. Everyone's someone, silly.

Bright Heart's frown increases—that's so unhelpful.

Then Secret turns. He knows she's about to leave, and he sort of wants to stop her. But he knows she'll never tell, anyway. She skips away, and Champ Bear's coming closer. Secret's words linger in his head like a sickness. Bright Heart gets awkwardly to his feet.

Champ's fur is a brilliant gold in the sunlight. His crimson headband's on tight, and he's taken off his matching vest. The trophy on his chest glimmers like a beacon; Bright Heart's drawn to it like he used to be drawn to his inventions. Now he's older and he's drawn to others and contact, and Champ Bear breathes handsomely, "Hey, sports' fan," even though Bright Heart's never cared much for sports. It's the way Champ is, and it's so distinctly Champ that Bright Heart loves it, cheeks glowing. "Did Secret... uh... did she tell you anything interesting...?"

Bright Heart shakes his head on instinct—is it his imagination, or is Champ turning red, too?

Champ shifts on his feet—nervousness looks strange on him. He opens his mouth to say more. But he just sticks out his paw.

Bright Heart blinks at it and takes it.

"Do you want to go out sometime?"