Chapter Eight.

Sage stood at the foot of Harlow's bed, arms crossed, tension thick in the air between them. The argument had been small, a misunderstanding fueled by emotions neither of them entirely knew how to handle yet. Harlow, still sitting on the bed, ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly.

"I just don't want you to worry," she said finally, voice soft but firm. "I don't even know exactly what's going to happen."

Sage sighed, stepping closer. "That's the problem, Harlow. I don't like not knowing what's going to happen to you."

"I'll come back," Harlow promised. "I always do."

Sage sat beside her, their knees brushing. "That doesn't make it easier." She looked down at her hands before turning her gaze to Harlow. "I don't want to fight with you. Not about this."

Harlow reached for her, threading their fingers together. "Me neither." She hesitated, searching Sage's face. "Are we okay?"

Sage squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Just… don't shut me out, okay?"

"I won't," Harlow assured her, pulling Sage into a tight hug. They held each other for a long moment, the tension melting away into the comfort of each other's arms.

The rest of the night passed in gentle touches and whispered reassurances. They curled up together, bodies fitting perfectly, and before long, exhaustion took over, lulling them into a dreamless sleep.

The next two days were busy with work, but they still found ways to see each other. 

Harlow's shifts at the small game store were usually slow, but they became much more interesting when Sage walked through the door.

Harlow was helping a customer when she saw Sage out of the corner of her eye, leaning against a shelf, watching her with that signature smirk. But she wasn't the only one watching.

Her coworker, Mason—a tall, broad-shouldered guy with dark hair and an easygoing charm—was standing a little too close, laughing at something Harlow had said. She hadn't thought much of it, but Sage's narrowed eyes told a different story.

Harlow barely had time to react before Sage was in front of her, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her into a kiss, right there in the middle of the store. It wasn't just a soft peck, either—it was possessive, claiming. By the time Sage pulled away, Harlow was breathless, cheeks burning.

Mason, to his credit, just chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "Damn. Alright, I get it."

Sage smirked, tugging Harlow even closer. "Good."

Harlow swatted at her playfully. "You're ridiculous."

Sage kissed the tip of her nose. "Maybe. But you're mine."

And just like that, any lingering tension was replaced by laughter and stolen glances for the rest of the shift.

Five days before Harlow's trip to the spirit realm, they decided to make the most of their time together.

Sage surprised Harlow with a weekend getaway, booking a hotel room near the beach. As soon as they arrived, the salty air wrapped around them, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air.

They spent the days exploring small beach shops, trying on ridiculous sunglasses and laughing at the overpriced tourist merchandise. Sage bought Harlow a seashell necklace, clasping it around her neck with a lingering kiss on her shoulder.

One evening, as they sat on the balcony overlooking the ocean, Sage grew quiet. The playful energy between them shifted into something heavier.

"I wanted this trip to be special," she admitted, fingers tracing patterns on Harlow's hand. "Because I'm scared."

Harlow turned to face her fully, their legs tangled beneath them. "Scared of what?"

Sage hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "Of losing you. Of something happening when you go to the spirit realm and you not coming back."

Harlow's chest tightened. She hadn't realized just how much Sage had been holding in.

"I don't want to lose you either," she whispered. "But I'll come back to you. I swear it."

Sage swallowed hard. "I hate that I can't do anything to stop it."

Harlow cupped her face, forcing her to meet her gaze. "You're doing everything that matters. You're here. You're loving me."

Sage's expression crumbled, and before Harlow knew it, they were in each other's arms, holding on as if the world was trying to pull them apart.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," Sage admitted against Harlow's skin.

Harlow's breath hitched. "Me too."

They held each other for a long time, the weight of their emotions pressing into them.

That night, they fell asleep wrapped up in each other, both anxious for the days ahead but finding solace in the steady beat of each other's hearts.