Once lunch arrived, Lilliana, as usual, asked Soren to eat together.
Normally, it was easy by now.
Not effortless, exactly, but familiar enough that she no longer had to think about it.
They would sit down, eat, talk a little, and part ways again, and somewhere along the line that routine had become one of the quieter parts of her day, something steady and warm and entirely too natural.
Today, the moment she sat beside him, it stopped feeling simple.
Before lunch, she had made sure to ask whether Amelia could give them some space.
She had told her it was because she needed to speak to him privately, and that was true, but only partially.
The fuller truth was much more embarrassing.
She did not trust herself to manage both Amelia's watchful presence and her own already-frayed composure at the same time.
Soren had agreed without fuss, which should not have surprised her.
He was often like that with her for some reason, gentle where he could be, accommodating in ways that only became obvious once she stopped and looked too closely.
That, unfortunately, was exactly what she kept doing.
At some point after they sat down, she became aware of how close they were.
Not touching, but close enough that she could feel his warmth when he shifted, close enough that the space between their shoulders felt smaller than it used to.
It startled her, not because the nearness itself was unpleasant, but because she could not remember when it had started feeling normal.
'When did we get this close?'
The thought landed softly, and for one brief moment, before the embarrassment followed, it warmed her.
Because they had, hadn't they?
Somewhere between the first careful lunches and everything that had happened recently, the distance had thinned without either of them naming it.
It should have unsettled her more than it did.
Instead, the more immediate problem was that part of her did not want to move away.
She looked down at her food and told herself very firmly to calm down.
That lasted perhaps ten seconds.
"Lilly?"
His voice was quiet, as usual, soft enough that hearing her nickname from him still did something unfortunate to her pulse.
She turned her head.
Soren was already looking at her, concern clear in his face.
"Are you sick?"
Her grip tightened slightly around her cutlery.
For a second, she almost said yes.
It would have been easier.
Easier to excuse herself, easier to retreat, easier than sitting here trying to act as though her entire body was not behaving strangely over things that should have been manageable.
But if she said that, he would worry.
He would ask questions.
He would keep looking at her in that open, earnest way of his, and then she would either have to lie properly or tell him the truth, and right now neither option felt appealing.
So she only shook her head and lowered her gaze again.
That should have ended it.
Instead, it made the silence around them feel louder.
She tried to eat.
It was a mistake almost immediately.
The first bite brought back the memory of last night so vividly that her stomach tightened.
Warmth, closeness, the taste of blood far too fresh and alive, the awful ease with which her body had responded to it.
She swallowed too quickly and kept her eyes fixed on her lunchbox, willing her thoughts elsewhere.
They did not listen.
And then, against her better judgment, her gaze flickered sideways.
To his neck.
It was still exposed.
His hair, tied neatly back for reasons she could not begin to forgive him for today, left the pale line of his throat completely visible.
That sight alone was bad enough.
What made it worse were the two tiny marks still there, faint but unmistakable if one knew to look.
Lilliana went still.
'Oh, gods.'
For a second she could only stare, caught between disbelief and a rush of fresh embarrassment so strong it almost made her light-headed.
Was he serious?
Did he truly not realise?
Had he forgotten?
Anyone paying attention could notice them.
Perhaps not understand, but notice, and the thought of that made something sharp and protective twist uncomfortably in her chest.
Then hunger slipped in beneath it.
Not overwhelming, not enough to frighten her, but immediate and insistent all the same.
Her fingers curled against the edge of the table.
She looked away at once, but it was too late.
Now that she had seen it, she could not stop being aware of it, the exposed skin, the marks, the simple fact that if he had only worn his hair down she might have survived this lunch in relative peace.
She tried to take another bite.
It tasted like nothing.
That was her limit.
Her hand came down on the desk harder than she meant it to, enough to make a sharp sound between them and draw Soren's attention fully.
He blinked at her.
"Lilly?"
She stood before she could reconsider it.
He looked up, startled now, confusion plain on his face.
"What's wrong?"
Lilliana opened her mouth, then shut it again.
How was she supposed to say this?
How was she supposed to explain that one hairstyle had sent her over the edge?
Her hands clenched once at her sides.
"Can you…"
She stopped, inhaled, then tried again, quieter and much less steady than she wanted to sound.
"Can you please cover your neck?"
Soren stared at her for a moment.
Then his expression shifted, and she knew instantly, horribly, that he understood.
There was a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes, not cruel, not even unkind, but enough to make her face burn.
"Lilly, are you hungry?" he asked, in that maddeningly gentle voice.
Lilliana looked at him in disbelief.
Of course he would say it so plainly.
Of course he would make it sound simple, as though she were not currently fighting for her life in the middle of lunch.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Didn't I tell you that you could just ask?"
That was somehow even worse.
The sincerity in it stripped away any room she might have had to hide behind annoyance, because he was not teasing her to be cruel.
He was simply offering, openly, honestly, like he had last night, as though this was not the sort of thing that should make her heart beat far too fast for reasons she still did not properly understand.
"Ren," she said softly, warningly, because that was all she could manage.
Something in her face must have reached him then.
The amusement faded at once, replaced by a more immediate concern.
Without another word, he lifted his hands and undid the tie in his hair.
White strands slipped loose and fell forward, obscuring his neck again, softening the line of it until those marks disappeared from sight.
The effect on her was immediate.
The tension in her shoulders eased, and the tightness in her stomach loosened just enough for her to breathe properly again.
Soren looked up at her once he was done.
"Is this better?"
Lilliana let out a slow breath.
"Yes," she said quietly. "…Thank you."
She sat back down, smoothing her skirt more to give her hands something to do than because it needed fixing.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Soren's expression changed again, guilt settling into it this time.
"Sorry, I didn't think."
That made her feel bad immediately.
Because he sounded genuinely apologetic, and this was not his fault, not really; he had done nothing wrong except exist near her in a way that was currently far too distracting.
She shook her head.
"No, it's alright. This is my fault," she said, then sighed softly when even that sounded harsher than she intended. "Or rather… I should have warned you."
He watched her carefully, still concerned.
Lilliana lowered her eyes to her food.
"I didn't know it would be this bad either," she admitted. "I told you before, but… I've never drunk blood directly before. Not like that."
Even now, saying it aloud made heat rise into her cheeks.
"With packs, or preserved sources, there's always some distance," she continued, choosing her words carefully. "They work, but they don't feel… vivid. Last night was different."
Soren listened quietly.
"This morning, I tried drinking from one of my regular packs," she said, and her mouth twisted faintly. "It tasted awful. Wrong, somehow. I had to rinse my mouth out afterwards."
That seemed to catch him off guard.
Lilliana covered part of her face with one hand for a moment.
"And then," she said, mortified, "I drank the blood you left from last night."
There was a brief silence.
"You kept it?" he asked.
Lilliana turned to him, deadpan despite the heat still burning in her face.
"Of course I kept it. I wasn't going to waste it."
He blinked, then nodded slowly, as though realising that yes, from her perspective, that was perfectly reasonable.
"…Right."
The look on his face was so earnest that, despite herself, she felt a tired little smile tug at her mouth.
"The point is that now everything else tastes worse by comparison, which is not a problem I was expecting to have," she said, before he could say anything else.
Soren winced sympathetically.
"I really didn't mean for that to happen."
"I know," Lilliana said, and this time her voice softened properly. "I know you didn't."
That was the problem with him.
He made sincere things sound so simple.
He hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
"If that's really the case… you really can ask whenever you need to, Lilly."
Her heart gave an unpleasantly quick beat.
She turned to look at him fully.
He meant it.
Of course he did.
There was not even a trace of awkwardness in his face, only straightforward concern, as though offering her his blood whenever she needed it was the most natural response possible.
Lilliana lowered her gaze again before he could read too much in her expression.
"I don't need that much," she said after a moment. "Usually, I drink blood a couple of times a day, but not very much each time. If it's from you…"
She paused, thinking it through properly.
"I think a few times a week would probably be enough."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"Your blood seems to last longer than livestock blood. The only reason I had more this morning was habit. Eating regularly is healthier, but I don't want to rely on you for all of it."
"I wouldn't mind," he said.
Lilliana smiled faintly, helplessly.
"Yes, I know," she said. "That really is the sort of thing you would say."
He looked at her, a little sheepish, though not enough to take the words back.
"So a few times a week?" he asked.
"For now," she said. "We can see how it goes."
He nodded once, accepting that with surprising ease.
"Alright," he said, and then his smile returned, gentler now, familiar enough to make her chest tighten all over again. "But I want you to promise me something, Lilly."
"Mm?"
Soren paused for a second, then, after taking a deep breath, he spoke.
"Just like you made me promise you, I want you to promise me that you won't hide when you're hungry or need help, okay?"
At that request, some of her embarrassment finally eased into something warmer.
A promise.
It warmed her heart.
It also embarrassed her terribly.
"…Okay," she murmured, the smallest smile touching her lips. "I'll try."
For a moment after that, they simply sat there.
Then, quietly, they returned to their meals.
This time, Lilliana could actually eat, though every so often her eyes still strayed to the loose fall of white hair over his neck, checking almost anxiously that it remained covered.
Once or twice, when he spoke and turned slightly toward her, she felt a faint shiver run through her anyway, and hated that she did.
Still, the worst of it had passed.
And beneath the embarrassment, beneath the hunger and the confusion and the constant awareness that things between them were no longer what they had been, there was another feeling now, softer than all the rest.
Warmth.
Because at some point, without her noticing, sitting close to him had become natural.
And now that she had noticed, she wasn't sure what to do with that at all.
————「❤︎」————