Racheal adjusted her bag strap as Gideon fell into step beside her, hands buried in his pockets, his usual lazy grin tugging at his lips.
"Well, well," he drawled. "I didn't know I'd be interrupting a romantic drama tonight. Should I have brought popcorn?"
Racheal shot him a sharp look. "You didn't interrupt anything."
"Mm-hmm." He arched a brow. "That's funny, because Declan looked like he wanted to kill me and kiss you at the same time."
She nearly tripped over her own feet. "What—?! Gideon!"
He laughed, not at all apologetic, and kept walking with ease. "Relax. I'm just saying what I saw. The tension was chef's kiss. If you two ever make a movie, I'm calling dibs on being the director."
Racheal groaned, quickening her pace. "Why are you even here?"
"To make sure you get home safe, of course. I'm a gentleman." He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. "Besides, it's late, and Declan can't do everything. Sometimes he needs a backup hero."
"You mean a backup clown," she muttered.
He chuckled at that. "Harsh, but fair."
For a while, they walked in silence, the night air cool against their skin. Streetlights flickered above, casting long shadows on the pavement. Despite his teasing, Gideon kept a careful distance, his usual laid-back energy making the walk feel less heavy than before.
After a moment, he spoke again—softer this time. "You know… Declan's a good guy."
Racheal glanced at him warily. "And this is supposed to mean what?"
"It means," Gideon shrugged, "he's not the type to say things he doesn't mean. If he cares, he cares. If he's mad, he's mad. He doesn't play games." He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "And from what I saw tonight, he's not joking around when it comes to you."
Her chest tightened. "You don't understand…"
"Maybe not." He smiled faintly. "But you should know he's not like the others. And you… you're not as untouchable as you pretend to be."
Racheal stopped walking. For a heartbeat, she just stood there, staring at him, unsure whether to be angry or grateful for his words.
Finally, she sighed and looked away. "You talk too much."
"And you feel too much," he shot back lightly. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
Despite herself, a tiny laugh slipped out of her, breaking the heaviness in her chest. Gideon grinned in triumph.
When they reached her hostel flat, he gave a mock bow. "Mission accomplished. The lady is safe. No mysterious shadows lurking around, no kidnappers, no drama—well, except Declan's death glare, but that's tomorrow's problem."
Racheal shook her head. "Goodnight, Gideon."
"Sweet dreams, Racheal," he replied, his tone teasing but his eyes unexpectedly gentle. "And hey—don't overthink too much."
As he walked away, Racheal lingered at the door, staring at the quiet street. Declan's retreating figure flashed in her mind again, his eyes, his voice, the way he had said— You're not a joke. Not to me.
She pressed a hand to her chest, whispering to herself:
"Then why am I so scared to believe him?"