this threat…
is simple.
25
LIAM
The courtyard feels different at dusk, emptier, almost hollow, as though the stones themselves are bracing for whatever comes next. Mist winds across the ground, soft and cool against my ankles, drifting toward the Reflecting Pools where Harper and I stood weeks ago, waiting to be judged. Now the water is dark and still, runes pulsing faintly beneath its surface like a heartbeat under skin. I’m not sure why I came here tonight; something in me simply moved, restless and tangled, and my feet followed.
Theo stands at the far edge of the pool, hands loosely folded, his wand resting against his thigh. His posture is alert despite the stillness, head tilted slightly as he listens to the world instead of watching it. He turns toward me the second I step onto the stone, not by sight but by sound, by the shift of air or the scrape of my heel. He always knows.
“Didn’t expect anyone else to be out,” he says, voice quiet enough that it folds into the mist rather than breaking it.
I move next to him, leaving enough space to breathe but not enough to feel distant. “Could say the same for you,” I murmur, letting my eyes drift over the water. Its surface catches faint glimmers of gold from the lanterns behind us, making the runes flicker like embers.
For a while, neither of us speaks. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it is heavy, full of things I haven’t said and things he seems to already understand. Ever since the alley, ever since Ares appeared and everything spiraled, my thoughtshave been a knotted mess. Worry for Harper sits in my chest like a stone, but it’s not the only thing weighing there. Something shifted between Theo and me that day… or maybe it shifted long before that and I’ve only just allowed myself to see it.
Theo breathes in slowly, like he’s tasting the air between us, measuring the atmosphere I didn’t realize I was bleeding into. “You’re tense,” he murmurs, voice quiet but sure. “And not in the way you usually are.”
I try to brush it off, offer some half-formed excuse, but the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “Everything’s been a lot,” I say instead, though even I can hear how hollow it sounds.
“That’s not what I meant.”
His voice softens, not with pity, but something deeper. The ache of someone who’s been watching me even without his sight.
“You’ve been… distant.”
He doesn’t accuse me. Doesn’t push. He just says it, quiet and honest. And somehow that lands harder. His hand lifts slightly from where it rests at his side, hesitating midair. A breath passes between us before he dares to close the space. His fingers brush against the inside of my forearm, a barely-there graze, the lightest stroke of skin on skin.
But it’s enough.
My pulse answers him instantly, pounding in my throat, my chest, my fingertips. The touch is nothing. Everything. A question. A confession neither of us has dared say aloud.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Theo whispers.
His tone stays even, patient in a way that drives me mad. He always gives me room to retreat. Always lets me pretend like I don’t want him the way I shouldn’t.
“I haven’t been,” I try, but the words break apart midair. They’re a flimsy veil and we both feel it tear.
He lets out a soft breath, half sigh, half knowing laugh. “Liam… I may be blind, but I’m hardly clueless.”
There’s something unbearably gentle in the way he says my name. Like it means something. Like I mean something. The faint tilt of his head tells me he’s watching me in his own way, listening to every shift in my breathing, tracking the tension in my stance. He always sees me too well. Especially when I’m trying not to be seen at all.
The mist curls at our feet, a slow, creeping veil that thickens the space around us. The water of the reflecting pool pulses beneath the surface, runes lighting up like they’re responding to more than just magic. To feeling. To want.
“I reached for you the other night,” Theo continues, voice quieter now. More intimate. “You flinched. Like I burned you. And since then…” He swallows softly, his next words lower, rougher. “You haven’t touched me. Not even to guide me through the halls.”
I look away, jaw tight, but I can feel his gaze on me even in the dark. Even without eyes.
“I miss it.”
That breaks me more than anything.
Heat rises up my neck, unwelcome and traitorous, and still I can’t make it stop. I want to touch him. I want to pull him close and bury my face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. I want to breathe him in like I’m drowning and he’s the only thing tethering me to air.
But I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
