Time passed like a slow-moving shadow thick, dragging, and heavy with unspoken tension. The kind of silence that sticks to your skin and makes the air too stiff to breathe.
I was in the kitchen, dancing absently with my earpods in, swaying to a rhythm that only I could hear. I didn't notice when Dawn entered or how long he'd been standing there watching. But I felt him. The burn of his eyes on my skin was louder than any song playing in my ears.
He hadn't spoken since I started cooking. But he didn't need to. Dawn's silence was its own language, one that didn't require translation. He filled a room without ever opening his mouth.
The mansion's air suddenly felt colder. Thicker. My movements slowed.
I sat on the far end of the couch, toes curling into the fabric as if the softness could ground me. The television buzzed quietly in the background, but I wasn't watching. I was trapped in the silence stretching between us. Still haunted by the way he looked at me in the kitchen like I had trespassed a law he never spoke of.
Now he stood across the room, near the window. Moonlight cut across his face, sculpting it into something unreadable. Sharp. Almost inhuman.
I let myself stare. Just for a heartbeat.
I took a moment to watch him when he wasn't looking. I still couldn't believe this man was mine.
POV: Dearest Luna, aren't you afraid?
If I could read minds, I'd start with him. But somehow, I already knew I wouldn't survive what I'd find there.
He broke the silence first. You're tense, he said, his voice low. Is it me?
My throat tightened. I wanted to lie. But I couldn't.
You have a way of making silence feel loud.
He turned, eyes locking on mine. You haven't even heard me speak properly yet.
I looked away. That's the problem. It's not what you say, it's how you don't.
He moved toward me, his footsteps deliberate, each one dragging heat to my skin.
Then he stopped. Right in front of me. No touching. No more words. Just watching.
His gaze dropped to my lips, then my neck, and back up again. Slow. Measured. Intoxicating.
You don't listen either, he muttered.
I do.
He leaned down, close enough for his breath to brush my cheek.
No you obey , that's different.
My stomach flipped.
He didn't touch me. He didn't have to.
I want to understand you, I whispered. But you're always hiding behind walls I can't climb.
He gave a dark chuckle. You're not meant to climb. You're meant to be invited in.
And will you?
Maybe.
Then his fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. A simple touch, but it left a fire in its wake.
He leaned in, slower this time. The tension between us cracked like ice underfoot. I felt his lips close enough to count the breath between us.
But then he stopped.
You're always ready, he whispered.
And he turned away, leaving me trembling.
I picked up the plate and walked back into the living room, my eyes flicking to the untouched space where he had stood just moments ago. The weight of his presence lingered like perfume in the air, intoxicating and impossible to ignore.
You didn't say why you called me here, I said, standing behind the couch. Was it to ask how my seminar went? Or was that just an excuse?"
He turned slowly, his movements deliberate like shadows under a full moon. His eyes burned into mine.
I needed to see you, he said. "We've started something… but we've never taken the time to see what it really is.
Why now?
Because the version of you I'm seeing lately… is shifting.
A beat passed.
I don't know what you mean.
Yes, you do, he replied. You're folding yourself into their expectations. The Luna I met didn't ask for room; she took it.
I bit my lip.
I'm not folding. I'm evolving.
He stepped closer. Then evolve toward what belongs to you, not what the world made you settle for.
There was something in his tone not condescending, but raw. Protective. A dare and a prayer rolled into one.
You're changing, Luna. But you're not lost. Not yet.
And damn him for knowing exactly where to touch even without laying a hand.
He came closer. The space between us trembled.
I'm still curious, he said. You asked me out, little woman. Aren't you afraid?
The words hovered in the air weightless but dangerous. A loaded gun with no safety.
And what am I to you? I asked.
His eyes flicked to mine, softening just slightly.
You're the calm I never believed I'd find, he said. "And the chaos I can't live without.
My breath caught.
The honesty in his voice wasn't wrapped in charm. It was steel dipped in poetry.
But I wasn't here to be dazzled. I was here to be real.
You talk like you know where this is going, I whispered.
I don't, he said. But I know what I'm not ready to lose."
I looked away, afraid of how much truth I was swallowing just to keep my composure.
Dawn…
His name fell from my lips like a confession, fragile, sacred.
He came closer, not like a man chasing, but like one approaching something holy.
Why do you keep getting bold?" he asked quietly.
I bit my lip hard enough to stop myself from saying what I wasn't ready to confess. My fingers trembled. I walked past him and set the plate on the table like I needed to let go of something before I reached for him.
I love you, I said, finally. You've always been the dream. Since that city gala night, I fell. And I'm not afraid, not of you, not of our status, not of our age, or of the world.
He moved again not like a predator now, but like a man stepping into something sacred.
When he reached me, he didn't touch me. Just stood close enough that his presence alone wrecked me.
He breathed deeply. Then let's build something real. You're worth the fire.
I looked up at him.
Are you finally defining us?
And you still don't know what I'm capable of, he said. But here we are.
He lifted a hand and let his fingers graze my jaw. Gently. Like asking permission.
You're trembling, he murmured.
I hate that you see that.
I like seeing this part of you, he said
I hate that you think it's something to hide.
We stood there in that electric stillness. Until finally
The kiss came.
Not wild.
Not rushed.
It was quiet confidence, a promise without a ring. A thunderstorm that whispered.
He kissed me like I was the only truth he'd ever admit. I kissed him like I was tired of lying to myself.
And when we pulled apart, nothing was the same.
I folded my arms not as defense, but to keep myself from falling deeper.
Don't make me need you, I whispered.
You already do, he said.
And then I reached up, kissed him again this time on my own terms. Hungry Honest.
You're interesting, Luna, he murmured. I'm the one who stayed when I should've walked away.
Then prove it.
Every damn day.
The silence returned. But it wasn't empty this time. It was full.
She walked back to the couch and sat down, dragging the throw blanket over her lap like armor.
Dawn followed. Crouched in front of her, still staring calm, still, intense.
If you walk away now, he said softly, you'll take something I won't be able to get back.
She looked at him, this man made of sharp edges and silent storms now laid bare before her without shedding a tear.
"I'm not here to play it safe," she whispered.
Good, he said. Because I'm not either.
Her fingers traced his cheek tender. Brave. Like she was writing her name into him without needing ink.
I still don't know what this is, she said.
Neither do I, he replied. But it's real And that's enough.