[Third Person Pov]
Much later in the night, well past midnight, Lucian finally let himself collapse onto his bed with a weary, breathless sigh. The day had drained him completely—physically, no, the exhaustion was more mental. He lay on his back with his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the darkened ceiling, wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms as sleep slowly began to creep in.
His eyelids had just started to flutter closed when a faint tap echoed through the room.
Lucian frowned.
Another tap followed, sharper this time, unmistakably coming from his window. His eyes snapped open just in time to see a small pebble strike the glass and bounce away. With a confused huff, he pushed himself upright and crossed the room, sliding the window open.
He barely had time to process what he was seeing before he instinctively took a few steps back.
Thalia climbed inside with practiced ease.
She was dressed down in black, rock-and-roll–style fuzzy pajama pants, a fitted skinny top, and a loose, open sweater that hung comfortably off her shoulders. Her hood was pulled up, shadowing her face slightly as she stepped into his room.
"What are you—" Lucian started, but the question never finished.
Thalia closed the distance between them in an instant, snaking her arms around his torso and pressing herself against him. She buried her face into the crook of his neck as if she belonged there, clinging to him with a desperation that caught him completely off guard.
Lucian blinked, stunned, letting out a confused, breathy sound. "Huh?"
"Sorry…" Thalia murmured quietly. Her voice was low, hesitant. She pulled back just enough to open her mouth, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find the right words. "It's just… I—I don't know, honestly. I just… had the urge to come over."
Lucian didn't need her to explain further. He knew her better than anyone. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her in return and spoke softly, "You didn't want the others to see, did you?"
Thalia stiffened at the question, then slowly shook her head. "No. I didn't." Her grip tightened as she whispered, almost ashamed, "I was holding myself back all day."
Lucian let out a quiet sigh, resting his chin lightly against her head as he felt her practically trying to melt into him. "Just so you know," he said gently, "you're acting very uncharacteristically."
"I know," Thalia hummed, resting her forehead against his collarbone, her hood still pulled up. There was no denial in her voice—only acceptance. "I just don't care… Just please…" She hesitated before adding, almost pleading, "Let me keep holding you. Even if it's only for a little while."
Lucian's expression softened immediately. He lifted a hand and rested it against the back of her head, fingers running smoothly down her hood. Her voice sounded so small, so vulnerable—so unlike the Thalia he knew—that if he hadn't seen her face moments earlier, he might not have believed it was her at all.
"I'm not going to push you away," he said quietly. "You don't need to beg. We can stay like this for as long as you want."
"Hm," Thalia hummed contentedly. Her body finally relaxed against his, her breathing evening out. "I'm glad to hear that."
Lucian carefully guided her back toward the bed, and the two of them fell onto it together, Thalia still refusing to let go. They lay there in silence for a long moment, the room filled only with their breathing.
"Days went by," Thalia finally said, breaking the quiet, her voice softer now, more reflective, "until they turned into weeks—" She swallowed. "—weeks where I couldn't hold you, kiss you… much less touch you."
"I'm sorry," Lucian said. It was simple, but sincere.
"It was torture," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "The more time passed, the more I started missing the little things we shared. We could still talk, still interact, but everything was blocked by that thick, cold metal armor of yours. It just… wasn't the same."
Lucian made a low sound of acknowledgment, a subtle reassurance that he was listening, that he wasn't going anywhere.
"It made me appreciate the small things about you," Thalia went on. "Your warmth. Your smooth skin. Running my fingers through your silky hair." She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his. "Your rough hands on mine—I think I missed that the most. Just being able to hold hands properly. It's such a simple thing… but it's intimate in a way nothing else really is."
A quiet chuckle rumbled from Lucian's chest as he squeezed her hand, their fingers tightening together naturally.
Thalia shifted so she was above him, staring down at both him and their intertwined hands. From beneath her hood, electric-blue eyes sparkled and glistened—whether from emotion, power, or unshed tears, it was impossible to tell.
She gently guided his hands down beside his head and leaned in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. She sighed deeply afterward, like someone finally quenching a long-held thirst, then leaned in for another kiss.
This time, Lucian didn't hesitate. He kissed her back just as surely.
Her breathing hitched against his lips, uneven and shallow, and Lucian could feel the faint tremble running through her. Her lips quivered beneath his, restrained emotion vibrating between them like a fragile thread stretched too tight. He could tell—she was holding something back, something heavy and painful that had been pressing against her chest.
They slowly broke their hold on each other's hands as Lucian carefully sat up, moving with deliberate gentleness. He brought both hands up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as they shared another quiet, lingering kiss—one that carried far more weight than passion alone.
That was when he felt it.
Moisture gathered beneath his thumb.
Lucian opened his eyes, and his breath caught. Tears were silently trailing down Thalia's face, slipping free despite her efforts to contain them. They stained her skin as she clung to the kiss for as long as she could, as if afraid that letting go—even for a moment—might make him disappear again.
"Every time I closed my eyes…" Thalia finally whispered. Her voice cracked, trembling under the weight of everything she had been carrying. "All I could see was your motionless corpse back on that island." Her breath shuddered. "I couldn't sleep. I had to see you—to see that you were really here, that you weren't actually dead."
Lucian pulled her into his arms immediately, holding her tightly, desperately, as if his body itself could reassure her. He pressed her against his chest, letting her feel his warmth, his heartbeat, the undeniable proof that he was alive. Guilt twisted his features, his voice thick as he spoke. "I'm sorry… I never meant to—"
"I'm not telling you this so you'll apologize," Thalia interrupted gently. She slid her arms up and around his shoulders, encircling his neck, leaning in closer as if he were the one who needed comfort. Her embrace was warm, tender, grounding. "I'm telling you this because I love you. I love you a whole lot more than either of us ever realized."
Lucian was grateful for the darkness, for the fact that the only light spilling into the room came from the faint glow of the window. He had no idea what kind of expression he was making after a confession like that—and honestly, he didn't want her to see it. Heat flooded his cheeks and chest all at once, leaving him flustered and breathless.
Thalia cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over his skin as if she needed to feel the warmth beneath it. She rested her forehead against his, her voice steady despite the tears still clinging to her lashes. "When I lost—" She paused, inhaling deeply, steadying herself. "When you died, I felt a part of me die with you—" She paused again and pulled back just enough to look at him. "Why are you making that face?"
"What face?" Lucian asked defensively.
"That face you're making."
"I'm not making any faces."
"You are," she insisted. "You look stupid. You're throwing me off."
"How else am I supposed to react to what you're saying?" he protested, flustered. "I'm getting embarrassed over here—I can't help it!"
"I'm trying to be serious here."
"I know, and I'm sorry!!"
Seeing him like that—flushed, struggling to maintain eye contact, his eyes peeking out from behind his hair—Thalia couldn't help herself. A soft laugh escaped her, followed by a quiet chuckle. She reached up and brushed his bangs aside, revealing his face fully, studying him with tender reverence as her fingers traced his features.
"I could go on some elaborate tangent about how I feel," she said softly, "about you, about your death, about everything." Her thumb brushed his cheek. "But speeches really aren't my thing."
Lucian smiled faintly—tired, guilty, but warm—and reached up to wipe away the lingering tracks her tears had left behind.
Thalia leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. "Just promise me something," she murmured. "Promise me you won't really die. That I won't have to go through that again." Her voice faltered. "Because… I don't think I could handle it."
"I'm a man of my word," Lucian said, his hands settling securely around her waist. "I promise—I'll make sure you never have to experience something like that again."
She opened one eye, giving him a strange, skeptical look. "Then why do I feel less reassured when you say that?"
"What do you mean?" he said, puffing his chest slightly. "I just told you I'm a man of my word."
Thalia rolled her eyes, then leaned forward and kissed him—firmly enough that they both toppled back onto the bed.
She curled against him, arms draped over his chest as Lucian wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her close, protective and sure. "Do you mind if I stay the night?" she asked quietly.
"Do you seriously have to ask?" Lucian said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm not letting you out of my sight tonight."
Thalia smiled, content and relieved, and snuggled closer. Her eyes slid shut as she relaxed fully against him, basking in his warmth—finally at peace.
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