Elias lay half-sitting at the edge of the bed, shirt rumpled, hair still carrying the scent of rain. The storm outside had softened to a steady murmur. The kind of rain that no longer tried to be loud — just lingered.
The air in the room was warm and heavy, clinging to skin like silk caught on fingertips. Mara sat beside him, knees pulled up, her shoulder brushing his every time she breathed. Neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't awkward. It was… fragile. Like if either of them said the wrong thing, the night would shatter in their hands.
He studied the side of her face, the way the soft glow of the city bled across her cheekbones. She wasn't looking at him. But she didn't pull away either.
The distance they'd spent months maintaining was gone now — swept away like ash in wind. There was no pretending they hadn't crossed the line.
Elias exhaled slowly. His pulse was still beating a little too fast, too uneven. He didn't like losing control. But with her, it wasn't losing. It was something stranger. Weightless and heavy at the same time.
"You're too quiet," Mara murmured, breaking the silence.
He tilted his head toward her. "You always say that."
She gave a soft, shaky laugh that wasn't really laughter. "Because it's true. You go quiet when you're overthinking."
Elias didn't deny it. His hands rested loosely on his thighs, knuckles still warm from where they'd held her. His voice came out lower than he meant. "Maybe I'm just trying to remember the world before this."
She turned then, slow, like the night itself moved with her. Her gaze met his — calm on the surface, but deep beneath it, something burned.
"And?" she whispered.
Elias let the corner of his mouth twitch into something not quite a smile. "I can't."
Her breath caught, barely audible. He could see it — the war flickering in her eyes. Fear and hunger, guilt and want, all tangled into something neither of them could name out loud.
Mara reached out then, fingers brushing the back of his hand. It was a small touch, soft and hesitant, but it landed like a thunderclap inside his chest. He didn't move away.
The city hummed faintly outside. Someone somewhere slammed a car door. A train in the distance groaned across its tracks. Life went on, unaware of the storm that had cracked open in this quiet room.
"You're going to regret this," she whispered.
"Maybe." His thumb turned and caught her hand in his, fitting against her like something that shouldn't work but did. "But not tonight."
Her shoulders softened, a single shiver running down her spine. She leaned against him, not fully — just enough for their breaths to fall into the same rhythm.
Elias looked down at the crown of her head. God, what have we done? The thought came quiet but relentless. Not as accusation, but as a fact that lived under his skin.
This wasn't a simple kind of wrong. This was the kind that didn't leave clean edges when it broke.
And still… he didn't let go.
Mara whispered, "The world's going to wake up soon."
He hummed, low. "Let it."
"Elias…"
"I know." His voice cracked just enough to sound human. "I know."
Her fingers tightened against his, just for a heartbeat. And in that small, borrowed piece of night, it didn't matter what waited outside. Not the threat. Not the secrets. Not the hands that might be watching.
It was just this. Their breaths. Their silence. The way the storm outside seemed to quiet for them and them alone.
The sky hadn't begun to lighten yet, but Elias could feel dawn approaching.He hated dawn. It had a way of making everything real.
For now, though, he let the world stay dark.And Mara… stayed close.