4

Silence is Gold

I stirred awake, the weight of drowsiness still clinging to me. The air was colder now, the once-gentle breeze turning sharp against my skin. A strange silence had settled around me—thicker than before, pressing against my senses.

I blinked, adjusting to the dim light. The world was painted in shades of deep blue and silver, the moon casting long, ghostly shadows through the trees.

Something felt... different.

I shifted slightly, preparing to sit up, when I felt it again.

That gaze.

Heavy. Unwavering.

My breath hitched. I didn't have to turn to know he was watching me.

Slowly, cautiously, I shifted my head just enough to see him from the corner of my eye.

He hadn't moved from his spot against the tree, but there was something different in the way he sat now—his posture tense, his fingers curled against the fabric of his pants.

And his eyes.

The glowing hue, now darker in the night, locked onto me with an intensity I couldn't decipher.

I swallowed.

"...You're still awake?" My voice came out quieter than I intended, uncertain.

A pause. Then, in that same breathy yet rough tone, he murmured, "Yes."

I turned fully now, propping myself up on my elbow, my pulse unsteady for reasons I couldn't name.

There was something in his expression. Something hesitant. Something... restrained.

"Do you always stare at people when they're sleeping?" I tried to inject lightness into my tone, but it came out more strained than playful.

His eyes flickered, just for a second.

"You were shivering," he said simply.

I hesitated. Had I been? I hadn't noticed.

Still, his gaze lingered too long, the weight of it sending a strange prickling sensation down my spine.

Something about this moment felt like standing at the edge of a precipice, caught between curiosity and an unspoken warning.

"...Right," I murmured, forcing myself to relax. I laid back down, my back to him once again.

But sleep didn't come easily this time.

Because even as I closed my eyes, I could still feel him watching.

The air had grown even colder.

I had barely dozed off when I felt it—a shift in the space beside me. A presence.

My mind was still sluggish with sleep, but instinct sent a prickle down my spine.

He had moved.

I kept my eyes closed, my breathing steady, feigning sleep. The rustling of fabric, the subtle creak of weight settling onto the ground—it was unmistakable.

He was closer.

The space between us, once wide enough for comfort, had disappeared.

A slow inhale, a faint exhale. His breath, just behind me.

My heart pounded.

It wasn't just the closeness—it was the hesitation in it. Like he wanted to move closer but was holding himself back.

The warmth of his body radiated through the night air, faint but present. I was hyper-aware of it, every nerve alert, my senses heightened.

What was he doing?

Seconds stretched into eternity.

Then, barely above a whisper—his voice.

"…You're cold."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't an excuse. Just a statement.

And then—hesitantly, almost awkwardly—I felt the weight of his arm hover near my side, as if debating something, fighting some internal battle.

I forced myself to remain still.

I could feel it now—his uncertainty. The tension in the space between us.

But beneath it, something else.

Something I couldn't name.

Or maybe… didn't want to.

I swallowed, pulse erratic. If I moved, if I reacted, would he pull away? Or would he do the opposite?

The thought sent a shiver through me—whether from cold or something deeper, I didn't know.

But I stayed still.

And he stayed close.

Too close.