Whispers in the Dark

The storm outside fades into a steady rhythm, the sound of rain against the wooden roof softening, merging into the quiet hum of the night.

The air inside the shed is warmer now, though whether it's from the lingering body heat between us or simply my own heightened awareness of Elias's presence, I don't know.

He hasn't moved.

Neither have I.

His body is still pressed against mine, the damp fabric of his clothes cooling, but the heat beneath it remains. I feel it in the way his chest rises and falls steadily, in the solid warmth of his arm against mine, in the way his breath brushes my skin whenever he shifts just slightly.

It is too close.

Too intimate.

And yet…

I do not pull away.

——

I exhale slowly, shifting just enough to ease the stiffness in my legs.

And then—

I feel it.

A touch.

Faint.

Accidental.

But lingering.

Elias stiffens beside me.

My breath catches.

His hand—his fingers—have brushed against the curve of my waist, barely there, barely noticeable, and yet the sensation spreads.

A slow, crawling heat rises in my skin, my heartbeat suddenly too loud in the quiet.

I do not move.

Neither does he.

For a moment, the world holds its breath.

And then, so quietly that I almost miss it—

"You smell nice."

——

The words should be casual.

They are not.

His voice is lower than usual, rough at the edges, like something he hadn't meant to say aloud. Like something he wasn't supposed to be thinking but thought anyway.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "What?"

Elias shifts slightly, and I feel it again—the briefest brush of his fingers as he adjusts his arm, as if trying not to touch me but failing.

"You smell nice," he repeats, quieter now, almost… hesitantly.

The words send a slow, deliberate shiver down my spine.

Not from the cold.

Not from the damp air.

From him.

From the way his voice lingers in the dark, from the way the weight of his presence is too much and yet not enough all at once.

I force myself to breathe.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" I murmur.

Elias exhales a short laugh—nervous, maybe, or simply unsure of himself. "Dunno. Just an observation."

An observation.

Right.

I try to ignore the way my pulse jumps as he shifts again, this time moving slightly away, creating the barest distance between us.

And despite myself—

I miss the warmth immediately.

——

The rain finally stops.

The night settles into deep silence, the world outside still and breathless.

Elias runs a hand through his hair, tilting his head back against the wooden wall. "We need a plan."

I blink, still caught in the lingering warmth of the moment before.

"A plan?" I echo, trying to ground myself in something—anything—other than the way my skin still tingles where his fingers had been.

He nods. "We can't just drift forever. We need to figure out how to live here. Long-term."

I frown, shifting so that I can look at him properly. "You sound like you're assuming we'll be here for a while."

Elias meets my gaze, and for the first time since we arrived in this world—

He looks serious.

"You really think we'll just wake up and go back one day?" he asks, voice quiet. "Just like that?"

I hesitate.

Because no, I don't think that.

I don't think anything.

I have no reference for what is supposed to happen, no knowledge of what should be.

I was created to exist here, but I do not know why.

And Elias…

Elias wasn't supposed to be here at all.

——

I sigh, rubbing my temple. "So what do you suggest?"

Elias exhales, considering. "Money is the first issue. We need a stable source of income. Not just one job at a time."

I nod. "Agreed."

He tilts his head. "Velia's a fishing village. That means trade. Commerce."

I raise a brow. "And?"

"And that means there's money moving through here." He gestures vaguely. "If there's trade, there's someone managing it. A banker. A merchant. Someone who understands the economy."

I hum. "So you want to start a business?"

Elias chuckles. "Not exactly. But I want to understand how people survive here."

He leans forward slightly, fingers tapping against his knee as he thinks aloud.

"There's bound to be different kinds of work," he muses. "Labour, like what we did today. Skilled crafts. Maybe even mercenary work if we go inland."

"Fighting," I say, more as a statement than a question.

Elias meets my gaze.

For a moment, we say nothing.

Then, after a long pause—

"You'd be good at it," he admits.

I exhale a quiet laugh. "Of course I would."

He smirks, but there's something else in his expression. Something unreadable.

Like he knows something I don't.

——

The night stretches on.

We speak of plans, of ideas, of possibilities.

We do not know what comes next.

But for once, we are not lost.

Elias leans back, closing his eyes. "We'll figure it out."

I watch him, watching the way his chest rises and falls in slow, steady motions.

I do not know what he is becoming.

I do not know if he will stay the same, if the darkness creeping at his edges will swallow him whole.

But I know this—

Tonight, he is still Elias.

Still human.

Still mine.

And for now, that is enough.

——

By the time morning comes, neither of us realise when we fell asleep.

But when I wake, the first thing I feel is warmth.

The first thing I see is him.

And the first thing I hear—

Is the quiet, steady rhythm of his breath beside mine.