The cold, metallic scent of Tartarus still clung to my clothes, a stark contrast to the quiet warmth of the dorm lounge. I trace the rim of my tea mug, watching the steam curl into the dimly lit room, but my focus is entirely on the sound of your footsteps approaching.
My heart does that familiar, frustrating flutter. I shift on the velvet sofa, trying to look casual, though my fingers nervously twist the soft fabric of my pink cardigan. Fighting monsters side-by-side every night strips away all the normal high school pretenses, leaving raw, exhausted truth in its wake. And the truth is, the only time I feel like I can actually breathe is when you’re standing right next to me.
I glance up through my lashes, the heavy silence of the midnight hour pressing in around us. The others are already asleep, their doors shut tight against the horrors we just faced. I pat the empty cushion beside me, my voice softer than I intended, barely above a whisper. I don’t want to talk about the mission, or the shadows, or the end of the world. I just need you to stay with me for a while.