EPISODE 8
982 Words
(Alexandria’s POV)
If irony had a favorite flat, it was ours.
Because just as Ethan finished declaring, “At least the power’s finally stable,” the lights flickered—once, twice—then died completely.
Again.
I stared into the darkness. “You jinxed it.”
Ethan raised his hands like a magician. “Wasn’t me!”
Liam’s sigh echoed from somewhere near the window. “Of course. Of course this would happen again.”
“Relax,” I said, feeling around for my phone. “It’s just another cozy blackout. We’ll light candles. Roast marshmallows. Sing Kumbaya.”
Ethan perked up. “Oh, I like this version of you.”
Liam muttered, “I don’t.”
But ten minutes later, there we were , surrounded by flickering candlelight, a half-empty bottle of wine (Ethan’s fault), and my terrible playlist on Spotify humming softly from a dying phone battery.
“Alright,” Ethan said, clapping once. “Time for some entertainment.”
“No,” Liam said automatically.
“Yes,” I said instantly.
Ethan pointed at me. “See, she gets it. Let’s play truth or dare.”
Liam groaned. “We’re not twelve.”
“Exactly. That’s why it’s fun.”
I smirked. “Scared you’ll lose, neat freak?”
He gave me a flat look. “Scared you’ll regret asking me questions.”
Ethan’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, I am so playing referee.”
---
Round One:
“Truth,” I said.
Ethan grinned. “Alright, Alex , first impression of my brother?”
I thought about it for a second. “Serious. Intense. Probably irons his socks.”
Ethan laughed so hard he nearly choked on his wine. “Oh, she’s good.”
Liam muttered, “They’re folded, not ironed.”
“Of course they are,” I said. “That makes it so much better.” The irony slipping off my lips.
---
Round Two:
“Liam,” Ethan said wickedly. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Liam said dryly.
“Boring. Okay. Do you like your roommate?”
Liam froze mid-sip. I grinned slowly.
Waiting to hear his reply eagerly.
“Define like,” he said finally.
“Oh, come on,” I teased. “This isn’t a contract clause.”
He set the glass down, eyes flicking to me. “She’s… tolerable.” he said .
I smiled a little, not a comfort smile it was a 'know my place ' type of smile.
What exactly I'm I expecting.
Ethan gasped dramatically. “That’s his version of a love confession!”
“Keep talking,” Liam said, “and you’ll be tolerable too , from a different postal code.”
I laughed so hard both my stomach and my heart hurt.
---
Somewhere between more teasing, Ethan’s bad jokes, and my insistence on teaching Liam to whistle (spoiler: he can’t), the tension in the room softened.
For the first time since I’d met him, Liam looked… lighter. Still quiet, still neat-freak Liam but the corners of his mouth actually lifted now and then.
And when Ethan grabbed the guitar he’d “borrowed” from Liam’s old stash, things shifted again.
“Play something,” Ethan said, handing it to him.
Liam hesitated. “No.”
“Play something,” I echoed, nudging him. “Please?”
He stared at me for a long moment ,
I can't tell if his deciding to play for me or doesn't want to lay because I am here, more like he was weighing a risk. Then, finally, he took the guitar.
The first notes were soft , hesitant at first but they filled the room like warmth. I sat cross-legged on the floor, chin resting on my knees, watching him.
He wasn’t performing. He wasn’t showing off. He was just… feeling.
The music was beautiful , smooth, bittersweet, like it belonged to a memory he didn’t want to admit was still alive.
When the last chord faded, I realized Ethan had gone unusually quiet.
“See?” I whispered. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Liam glanced up, something unreadable in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have heard that.”
“Too late,” I said softly. “I’m keeping it.”
---
After Ethan crashed early (and snored like a lawn mower), I found myself still in the living room, candles melting low.
Liam was cleaning up ,because of course he was .
When I said, “You know, you’re different when you play.”
He paused. “Different how?”
“Human.”
That earned me a small, almost reluctant smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was,” I said. “You hide too much, Liam.”
His gaze met mine ,quiet, steady, too sharp for comfort. “And you ask too many questions.”
“Balance,” I said lightly.
But the air between us wasn’t light anymore. It was… something else.
Something warm and dangerous and new.
Then, out of nowhere, thunder cracked outside , loud enough to make me jump.
I lost balance, stumbled and his hands caught me before I could fall.
For one heartbeat, we just froze like that , close enough to hear his breath, close enough to feel every word we weren’t saying.
The candlelight flickered across his face, softening everything ,the sharp jaw, the guarded eyes, the walls he kept so carefully built.
And then he cleared his throat and stepped back.
“You should get some sleep,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” I said, pretending my pulse wasn’t in chaos. “You too.”
He nodded once but his gaze lingered a second too long before he turned away.
When I finally went to my room, I heard him start the guitar again.
Different melody this time.
Softer.
Like something he didn’t want me to hear, but played anyway.
- Writer
