— NOLAN'S POV —
I slipped into my room and shut the door, leaning back against it as if the wood could barricade me from the lingering charge in the air.
My palm pressed to my chest, trying to coax my heart into slowing, but it refused—still thrumming in the aftershock of Varek's presence.
Why did being near him always feel like standing too close to a storm? Not just the threat of lightning, but that quiet, humming tension in the air right before it strikes—when every hair on your arms stands at attention like it knows something you don't.
I let myself fall onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. The ceiling above was blank, offering no answers, but my mind wouldn't stop racing. My fingers brushed the shape of the key in my pocket—still there. Still warm. Too warm. It felt like it had been resting in a patch of sunlight all day… which was ridiculous, considering the walk home had been bone-freezing, my hands stiff enough to ache.
I pulled it free, holding it up toward the thin spill of moonlight filtering in from the window. The metal caught the pale glow, and for just a moment—so brief I almost dismissed it—it seemed to pulse. Just once. Like a tiny heartbeat.
I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and stared again. Nothing.
Great. First Varek, now hallucinations.
I must have just been lying there staring at nothing for hours because when I finally glanced at the clock on my nightstand, the red numbers glared back: 2:45 a.m. Fantastic. Add insomnia to the list.
The silence in the apartment was strange tonight. Not peaceful—more like the air was holding its breath. I sat up, deciding maybe warm milk could trick my body into shutting down. Surely, Varek would be asleep by now.
The hallway felt longer than usual, the shadows in the corners thicker, almost clinging to the walls. The faint creak of the floor under my feet seemed too loud. When I stepped into the living room, the glow of a laptop screen hit me first—and then him.
Varek was still there. On the couch. Same posture as earlier, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his eyes sharp and focused on whatever was on the screen.
I stopped in the doorway, frowning.
Did this man not believe in sleep?
The words left my mouth before my brain could stop them.
"Do you just… not have an off switch?"
He looked up immediately, smirk sharp enough to cut. "What, worried I'll work myself to death?"
"Worried? Please. I just didn't expect to see a giant shadow creature haunting the couch at this hour," I shot back.
His eyebrow arched. "Shadow creature? That's a new one. You've called me worse."
He closed the laptop with a soft click and leaned back. "And why are you still awake?"
"Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd get some warm milk," I said, brushing past him toward the kitchen.
"I'll get it for you," he said, rising to his feet with unhurried grace. "My work's almost done anyway."
"You don't have to, I can—"
"I know you can," he cut in smoothly. "But I want to. Sit."
I narrowed my eyes but did as told, perching on the edge of the couch. It was infuriating. The more I tried to avoid him, the more some unseen force—him—pulled me closer.
A moment later, he came back with the glass. The steam curled upward, faint and inviting. I took it from him, fingers brushing his. "You should have some too. You're clearly not sleeping either."
"I don't need it," he said simply, like the concept was irrelevant to him.
I frowned. "I've noticed… I've never actually seen you sleep. Don't you get tired?"
"No." His voice was casual, almost careless, as if it wasn't worth explaining.
"You think you're some kind of superhuman? When you got hurt before, you said you didn't feel pain. Now you're saying you don't need sleep. Why keep pretending you're… untouchable?"
His gaze lingered on me for a beat too long, unreadable, like he was weighing whether to answer or just let me stew in the question.
"Think whatever you want, Nolan. Just drink your milk. Unless…" his lips curved faintly, "…you want me to make you sleep."
The words hit my ears wrong in the best and worst way, and I nearly choked as I downed the milk in one go.
He chuckled low, the sound warm and mocking. "Easy, Nolan. I'm not doing anything."
"Could've fooled me," I muttered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
I didn't wait for him to reply. I got up and made for my room, moving fast enough to be just short of running. Once inside, I shut the door and pressed my back to it again, as if that thin barrier could keep out both him… and the storm that always seemed to follow.