The night stretched on in heavy silence. Chase lay on the bed, Emerald curled against his chest, while Arrow sat by the window, his silhouette sharp against the dim moonlight. He hadn't moved much since their conversation—hadn't looked at Chase, hadn't spoken another word.
Chase wasn't sure what to do with that.
Every time he thought about getting up and going to him, something held him back. The tension between them was thick, like an invisible barrier neither of them knew how to break. Chase had spent so much time fighting for Arrow, fighting to save him, but now that they were here—together, safe—he didn't know how to approach him.
Would Arrow push him away? Would he regret imprinting on him?
Chase swallowed hard, his fingers gently stroking Emerald's tiny hand as she slept. He was so used to Arrow being cold, distant, unreadable, but now there was something else beneath the surface. Something quieter.
Hesitation.