Chapter 66: The Distance Between Us [2]
Time passed softly. The wind outside stirred again, stronger this time, slipping through the slightly open window, sending the curtains into a slow, almost ghostly dance. They fluttered violently for a moment, then settled, only to rise again, as though the night itself couldn't stay still.
Kael's breath, once a quiet rhythm, became slower, more even. His lips parted, bare chest rising and falling in that unmistakable cadence of sleep.
And beside him, Seraphina opened her eyes. She moved and straighten herself slowly. She just lay there, staring toward the ceiling in the darkness, her pupils slowly adjusting to the shifting glimmers of moonlight.
There was nothing in her expression. No sharp glare. No softness either. Just a lingering fatigue, the haze of sleeplessness clinging to her thoughts like a thin mist.
She blinked once. Slowly. She had heard everything he said earlier. Every word. And still… she couldn't sleep. The quiet sound of his breathing was irritating. Familiar. Repetitive. Comforting in a way that annoyed her more.
"I should sleep," she thought. "I need to sleep." But her body wouldn't listen. And her mind wouldn't stop.
She sat up, not quickly, not suddenly, but slowly, as though the decision to move took a full minute to form. Her silver hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders like silk, catching a faint shimmer as the moonlight reached her.
Her gaze drifted sideways, toward him. Not exactly at him, but at his shape. His body curled slightly inward, hugging the pillow. His legs lay unevenly stretched, one arm awkwardly tucked beneath him. His back was bare, bathed in moonlight; though light brown, it seemed to glow faintly. His head was tilted just enough for his face to turn toward her in sleep. He looked peaceful. For once.
She tilted her head slightly. As she leaned forward, the moonlight moved with her, gently grazing his face. It lit his cheekbones, the edge of his jaw, the little shadow under his nose.
Still, she didn't say anything. Didn't blink. Her eyes were heavy. Her body even heavier. But something in her just… didn't want to lie back down yet.
She stayed like that for a long while, watching him. Then, without really deciding to, she leaned a little closer. Her hand moved, slow and careful, almost hesitant. The sleeve of her nightgown fell back, revealing the pale curve of her wrist, her slender fingers catching the light.
"Idiot..." she whispered, her voice soft but unmistakably scolding as her gaze lingered on the bare skin of his back. "How many times have I told you? The winds turn cold at night. You never listen to me, do you?"
Her legs shifted beneath her blanket, brushing faintly against her. For a moment, she simply lay there in silence, her eyes steady on him.
She looked around for his blanket, then saw it, the way it clung to his legs. She drew her legs together and crawled forward, slow and careful, as if afraid to disturb the stillness around them. Her body turned slightly, movements fluid and almost feline, as she leaned forward. One hand reached out, pausing briefly before slipping beneath the edge of the blanket tangled near his legs.
Gently, she began to pull.
The blanket dragged upward, soft and slow, her fingers adjusting it in measured strokes as if tucking in something fragile. With every inch it rose, her eyes followed it, and her breath moved steady and calm.
Then she lifted her upper body, drawing both legs onto the bed as she sat up fully, each movement smooth and deliberate. Slowly, she began covering him with the blanket. At first, she merely tossed it over his body, but it slipped off. She tried again, once, twice, growing slightly annoyed, until finally, with a quiet sigh, she carefully pulled it around him. At last, it settled gently over his bare skin.
He flinched. Just a little. The touch of warmth must have startled him, because a second later, he clung to it, his hands gripping the fabric like a child curling into safety.
She stopped there. The blanket rested only up to his neck, not a bit higher. She hadn't covered him completely. Just enough.
Seraphina watched him in silence for a moment longer. Then, with the same slow grace, she turned and moved back to her side of the bed. She didn't lie down this time. Instead, she sat up against her pillow, arms resting loosely at her sides as she looked at him again.
"Already feeling the cold, aren't you?" she said quietly, her voice calm but laced with something smug, something faintly amused. "That's what you get for brushing off my words."
She remained silent for a long time. So long that even the air between them seemed to still. Her lips parted, not to speak, but simply to breathe. A quiet inhale, a hesitant exhale. Then her hand lifted, slowly, uncertainly, hovering in the space between them.
For a moment, it didn't move any further. Just lingered there, suspended mid-air as though unsure of its purpose. She kept looking at his light brown face, at the way his eyes remained closed, and at his brown hair, which usually only resembled a bird's nest but now truly looked like one.
Then, almost reluctantly, her slender fingers began to drift forward, her long hand stretching ever so slightly. The movement was quiet, careful, as if every inch was weighed against some invisible resistance. Halfway there, her hand paused again. Her fingers trembled. She was seated beside him, not too far away.
"It's happening again… just like this morning," she thought, her breath caught in her throat. "What do I even want? Or… what is it that this hand wants?"
She didn't have an answer.
Even so, this time… she didn't pull back. Her fingers closed the distance at last and touched his cheek. Gently. Lightly. As though she feared he might break beneath the contact.
His skin was warm. Much warmer than she expected. And softer too, softer than even her cautious mind had imagined. That warmth seemed to travel into her hand, up through her fingertips, and spread quietly into her chest.
She didn't move. She just stayed there, touching him, letting that warmth soak into her as if it could explain something words never could.
She let her fingers trail upward slightly, curving around the edge of his face, her thumb barely skimming the space near his closed eyes, the rest of her hand finding its way into the mess of his hair. She blinked.
"...Huh," she whispered.
His hair had always looked so wild, so unkempt, like he didn't own a mirror or simply refused to acknowledge its existence.
But it wasn't rough. It was softer than she expected. Not silky, but not coarse either. Just soft. And warm. Slightly tangled in that careless way that probably wasn't intentional, but looked like it was.
She gently ran her hand through it again, lifting a few strands, tucking some behind his ear. Slowly. Thoughtfully as though enjoying every movement of her.
Her lips curved, just barely. "Soft, your hair is so soft." she murmured. "But why do you always look like you lost a fight with a bird's nest… and decided to wear it in your hair?"
She tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes, inspecting his hair with the same cold curiosity she'd give to a puzzle or a misplaced file.
"Do you do it on purpose? Is this some strange, dramatic attempt to look mysterious and tragic? Or do you just… not care how you look at all? Honestly, Kael, you claim you're handsome like you believe it's a fact of the world. Try brushing your hair once."
Still asleep. Still breathing softly. She exhaled slowly and let her hand linger in his hair a moment longer.
"Handsome," she muttered. "You're ridiculous."
And yet… her fingers didn't leave. Not yet. Her eyes dropped lower, to his peaceful expression. His brow was relaxed, the corners of his mouth ever so slightly curved.
"Your hair's... kind of unusual," she said, almost offhandedly. "Not many people have brown hair around here. You always stand out. It's not a compliment, just an observation."
Her fingers moved again through his hair, slower this time, thoughtful without meaning to be.
"I'm not even sure why I touched it. Maybe I was curious. Wanted to see if it was soft or just a tangled mess." A pause, then quieter, almost like an afterthought. "You know, right? My mother's hair was like yours too, though hers was more golden. So silky. Too perfect. I used to mess it up on purpose when I was little, gave her all kinds of trouble. Maybe that's why your hair reminds me of hers."
Her lips twitched into a quiet smile. She stayed silent like that for a few moments, then spoke again…
"A moment ago..." her voice barely broke the silence, more to herself than to him. Her fingers hovered just above his hair again before finally settling against it with a slowness that almost seemed hesitant. She let them slide down gently, combing through the strands one by one as if touching something fragile. "...you asked me why I always get too close to you. And I'm the only one who has the right to do that."
He didn't stir. His breathing remained steady, lost somewhere deep in sleep. Still, she continued.
"But truthfully... I don't know. I never did. I thought I did, but I didn't. There was no logic to it, not one I could explain. I kept wondering, over and over, asking myself the same question, why do I keep coming closer to you? Why do I keep... reaching for you?"
Her voice dropped even softer as her eyes grew distant.
"This morning... when I saw your hair was a mess again, I almost touched it. I almost did. But I didn't. I stopped myself. I sat there... like a fool... hand half-raised, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. And even then I couldn't answer myself. There was no reason. No explanation. I simply... wanted to."
She blinked slowly, letting her hand still on his scalp, absorbing the warmth of his sleeping body.
"Then at the park," she whispered, "when I cornered you like that... I was angry. I thought that was the reason. Just my temper. Just a loss of control. But now, when I think about it again, I'm not so sure. Maybe I was pushing you, yes... but was that all it was? Was it anger, or something else I couldn't understand back then?"
Her other hand rose unconsciously and rested lightly beside his head. Still watching him, her voice began to tremble, almost unnoticeably.
"And the moment on the sofa..." she exhaled slowly, as if replaying it in her mind in vivid detail. "Back then I thought I was just hiding. Hiding my face, my expression, whatever foolish emotion I was dealing with. I didn't want you to see it. But now I wonder... was I really hiding... or was I trying to get close again in my own... pathetic, guarded way?"
She paused and looked down at him, searching his face for something, anything that could anchor her thoughts. Her voice cracked, uncertain.
"I don't know what I'm doing to you. I really don't. I don't know why I'm doing this. Why I keep coming close to you. Why I keep letting myself do this over and over. I don't understand it, Kael. I don't want to understand it. I don't want to know. I'd rather not."
Her gaze flickered, nervous, her breath shaky.
"You remember, right? You said I was someone special to you. Do you even realize... how much that meant to me? Of course you don't. Of course you couldn't. You say things like that so easily, like they mean nothing. But to me..."
She clenched her jaw, shut her eyes tightly for a second, and then forced them open again.
"But it doesn't matter. I don't care. I really don't. Just forget it."
She clicked her tongue and let her fingers weave through his hair again, slower this time. Her expression twisted, like she hated herself more with every motion.
"…Tch. Whatever. Too late now. I'm probably already addicted to this stupid hair. Not that it means anything. Maybe it just reminds me of hers."
She thought of the bench again. Of what had happened earlier. Of how she'd almost lost her temper completely. Of how he, somehow, managed to say the exact wrong things and still somehow anchor her again.
"Thank you, Kael," she whispered, eyes softening for the first time that night. "If you hadn't been there… I don't know what I would've done."
She sat in silence for a moment longer, then shifted her weight slightly.
"But don't get any ideas, okay. That doesn't mean I've forgiven you. Not even close." Her voice dropped, a quiet rasp in the stillness.
"I still haven't forgotten what you made me say. You think I'll just let that go? That's not how this works. Calling you… that. In front of you. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?"
Her hand curled slightly against the fabric of the pillow.
"Gods... do you think this is funny to you? That I'm just some... thing to be amused by? That you can just watch me twist myself into knots like this and call it entertainment?"
Her mouth tightened. "I really hate you," she whispered. "I really, really do. Just thought you should know." But still, her hand didn't move from his hair.
She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her forehead gently against her palm, resting it on the pillow. Her hand still in his hair, her breath barely a whisper.
Then, another tiny smile found its way onto her lips. It wasn't warm. But it wasn't cold either.
"Good night, honey." she whispered. "Have a nice dream."
A pause.
Then a dry murmur escaped her lips as she narrowed her eyes in warning, "But if you moan again in your sleep, Kael, I swear to every deity alive, I will kill you."
She finally drew her hand back, gently. Then, slowly, so slowly, lay herself back down. But this time, she didn't turn toward the wall. She lay straight, staring up at the ceiling. As she pulled the blanket up to her chin and the wind outside at last began to calm, Seraphina let her eyes close.
And then, for the first time in her life, she drifted into sleep not opposite him. Maybe… just maybe, she was letting her guard down.
---
In the morning...
The sunlight filtered through the curtains in long, gentle slants, painting golden stripes across the walls, the marble floor, the edges of the bed. It had that heavy warmth of late morning, the kind that seeps slowly into the skin and makes the air feel thick with quiet peace. The entire room glowed with it, drenched in light that made the space feel softer, quieter.
Kael's lashes fluttered. His eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, like they were struggling to return from somewhere far off. A few lazy blinks later, the haze began to lift. The first thing he noticed was warmth, a comforting sensation, yet far too gentle to be just air. Something more… intimate. His face twitched slightly as he shifted his eyes just a little downward, and that's when he saw it.
Lips.
Pale pink, softly pressed together, unmoving but so close they almost blurred in his vision. His breath caught for a second. He blinked again, his eyes clearing just enough to pull back and take in the rest of the face before him. Silver hair. Closed eyes. A cool, sleeping expression. Seraphina.
For a full moment, he just stared.
No, he wasn't dreaming. Not this time. To make absolutely sure, he bit the inside of his cheek. Hard. The sting confirmed what he already suspected.
His thoughts spun sluggishly at first. "W-wait... what? Her? She's here? She's… beside me? Facing me? Since when? How did this even happen?"
He couldn't remember the last time they woke up like this. Actually, he was almost certain they never had. Seraphina always woke before him, always. And even though they slept together, she always kept to her side, quiet and distant as ever. She never turned toward him in her sleep. That simply wasn't her.
But here she was. Facing him. Sleeping so close that her breath touched his skin, warm and light and barely-there, but enough to make something in him stir.
"She didn't wake up before me... why?" That small shift in routine made the entire moment feel strange. Almost unreal.
His gaze dropped again to her lips. They still hadn't moved. Still soft. Still untouched. His own lips twitched slightly without permission, curving just a little before he realized what he was doing.
"No. Bad idea." And yet, something in his head leaned forward, just a little. His pillow shifted under him, and before he could make sense of it, his head moved closer. Just an inch or two. And then another. It wasn't exactly on purpose. Or maybe it was. He wasn't sure. Was he doing this to tease her? To startle her awake? Maybe. Maybe not. All he knew was, her face was too close. And it wasn't far enough.
He could feel her breath on his mouth now, warm and soft like a whisper of spring wind. His gaze fixed on her. Just another inch and—
Her eyes snapped open.
Kael froze. Too late. Before he could even blink, her expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed in lightning speed, and he barely had time to process what was coming next before the sole of her foot slammed into his torso with brutal precision.
There was a loud thud. Then air. Then wall. His body flew back like a sack of potatoes thrown by fate itself, and the impact knocked the wind out of him as he crashed into the wall and slid down like some tragic hero in an old play.
He groaned. His voice came out broken, strained, and weak as he sat up slowly, one hand clutching his chest like he was cradling a wound. "Honey, was that really necessary…? Your aim is too good for it to be an accident."
Seraphina was already upright, blanket falling off her shoulders as she sat, silver hair cascading down over her arms. Her eyes were wide and burning. Her voice was sharper than any sword in the kingdom. "H-how dare you sleep that close to me. What the hell were you thinking? You—bastard!"
Kael stared at her, expression completely flat. "I didn't move," he said calmly, pointing one finger at her like he was presenting evidence to a jury. "You're the one who turned toward me and came over to my pillow."
She didn't answer, but her glare sharpened.
"So technically, you're the one who crossed the line this time."
Still silence.
He sighed and dragged himself back toward the bed, muttering, "Unbelievable. I wake up to lips, get kicked across the room, and now I'm the criminal."
He sat on the edge of the bed with a heavy thump, still rubbing his ribs. "You didn't have to kick so hard. I mean, I know you've got long legs, I've measured them, but you really didn't need to test their power on my bare chest. And with no clothes on… that counts as physical contact, doesn't it?"
"Shut up," she said immediately, one hand covering her temple as if the noise of his existence was giving her a headache.
"No, really," he continued, voice lighter now, teasing despite the pain in his ribs. "If we're counting first touches after marriage, then that one was mine. But if I count yours, then congratulations, it's officially your first touch. And this is what I get? Not a shy brush of fingers, not a gentle morning hug? No, of course not. I had dreams, you know. Hopes. A soft hand on my cheek maybe, a delicate 'good morning, darling.'" He sighed, dramatically clutching his side. "But instead? A flying kick. To. The. Ribs. Truly romantic. A memory for the ages. I'm touched, just not in the way I expected."
She was twisting a lock of her silver hair now, avoiding his eyes. "It doesn't count," she said stiffly, her voice lower than before. "That wasn't intentional. I was half-asleep."
"Still a touch," Kael pressed, clearly enjoying this far too much. "That means something. You can't deny fate."
"Shut. Up."
He grinned. Then his voice dipped just slightly, smoother now. "Did you let your guard down last night, Seraphina?"
She stiffened. For a moment, she didn't say anything. Then, slowly, she looked away, her eyes narrowing faintly. "No… of course not. Maybe it was just sleep. That's all."
He watched her carefully. She stretched her arms above her head then, slowly and deliberately, with an elegance that somehow still looked guarded. Then her head turned toward the window. Her eyes widened.
"What time is it?" she asked quickly, voice rising with sudden panic.
He shrugged. "How should I know? I just woke up like you."
He stood and padded toward the window, tugging the curtain aside with slow, lazy fingers. The light poured in even brighter now, gilding the room in that deep, golden hue that only late morning had.
He stared out a while. His eyes were still a little hazy, still adjusting, but the sun was high enough now to suggest it had been there for hours.
Behind him, Seraphina had drawn the blanket closer to her, not shivering, but curling slightly as she sat on the bed. She wasn't looking at him directly, just at his back. Just the outline of his shoulders against the morning light. Or maybe it was the shape of his body, even if it wasn't anything particularly impressive. Still, her eyes lingered for a second longer than necessary. Then her gaze drifted to his brown hair, strands catching the morning light with a soft shimmer. She looked away, almost immediately, but the memory from last night slipped in before she could stop it, the way she'd sat beside him, absentmindedly talking… and combing his hair with her fingers.
Her brows drew together.
"I actually touched him last time… and without his permission." Her voice was barely a breath. "What's wrong with me these days? Ugh…"
She buried her face slightly against her knees, flustered, annoyed, and just a little confused with herself. After a beat, she glanced at him again.
"…Idiot," she whispered, under her breath, but not without a hint of warmth.
Kael turned slightly and tilted his head, voice casual, like he already knew it would annoy her. "Judging by the sun's position, I'd say maybe around eleven. Give or take."
He grinned at her, slowly.
"That means you, Seraphina Ardent, our glorious Knight Captain, are late. For the first time ever." He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I can practically hear the panic in your soldiers' hearts. What will they do? They don't even know where you live. They must be thinking something's gone terribly wrong."
He crossed his arms, still facing the window. Then, leaning casually against the wall, he turned toward her and added in a mock-serious tone,
"The kingdom may not survive."
---
(Chapter Ended)
To be continued...