Chapter Seven – What we don't say
557 Words
After the night of the dream, everything changed between us.
Beryl stopped coming as often.
When he did, he kept his distance. Not physically at first—but emotionally. His smiles were fewer, his eyes heavier, like he was carrying a burden he refused to share.
And it hurt.
It hurt more than the pain from the Pleads, more than the fear of what I was becoming.
One afternoon, I found him standing at the edge of the maze, staring into nothing.
“Are you avoiding me?” I asked.
He stiffened but didn’t turn around. “No.”
“That didn’t sound like the truth.”
He sighed and finally faced me. “Renny… we shouldn’t be this close.”
My chest tightened. “Because of the kiss?”
“Because of what it means,” he said quietly. “Because every time I look at you, I forget the rules.”
“What rules?” I snapped. “The ones that say I’m dangerous? Or the ones that say I’m not allowed to feel anything?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “You don’t understand what will happen if—”
“If what?” I interrupted. “If I care about you?”
He looked at me then. Really looked.
“I already care,” he admitted. “That’s the problem.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and fragile.
I took a step closer. “Then don’t push me away.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From who?” I whispered. “You? Or yourself?”
That broke something in him.
Before I knew it, his hand was in mine. Warm. Steady. Real.
“I think about you constantly,” he said, his voice low. “Every time I leave, it feels like I’m tearing something out of my chest.”
My eyes burned. “Then stay.”
He leaned his forehead against mine. “If I stay, I might not be able to stop.”
“Then don’t,” I whispered.
For a moment, we just stood there—breathing the same air, sharing the same fear.
But this time, when he pulled away, it wasn’t rejection.
It was restraint.
That night, the mansion felt restless.
I could sense it—the walls humming softly, the air shifting. The Looping inside me stirred, responding to something unseen.
I was lying awake when the window creaked open.
“Renny,” a familiar voice whispered.
I sat up sharply. “Beryl?”
He stood by the window, moonlight outlining his figure.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he said. “But I couldn’t stay away.”
My heart leapt. “Then why did you come?”
“Because I needed to know something,” he said, stepping closer. “Do you feel it too?”
I didn’t pretend. “Yes.”
The word felt like a confession.
He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away.
I didn’t.
His fingers brushed my cheek, gentle, reverent. “Whatever this is… it’s not ordinary.”
“I don’t want ordinary,” I said.
Neither did he.
This time, when he kissed me, it was softer. Slower. Like he was memorizing me.
The room didn’t shake.
The ground didn’t split.
But something else happened.
Something deeper.
- Writer
