Chapter 4
1566 Words
Jordan had been awake for a while.
He lay still beneath a pile of soft, warm blankets, Milo curled tightly against his side like he belonged there.
One of Jordan’s hands rested low on Milo’s back, the other tucked behind his head.
Milo's face was nestled into the crook of Jordan’s neck, breath slow and even, his hair a soft mess brushing against Jordan’s collarbone.
Jordan made sure not to move too much—Milo needed the rest. He looked so peaceful. So cute.
After everything that happened yesterday, he really needed the rest.
Jordan’s fingers moved in a slow, absent pattern along Milo’s back, careful not to wake him.
His body was still, but his mind wasn’t. Not really.
His thoughts kept circling back to the fallout with Jayden.
How everything had escalated so quickly, spiraling out of control. He knew replaying it wouldn’t change anything, but try telling that to his brain, it just wouldn’t let go.
Milo began to shift, and Jordan tensed slightly, worried he might’ve been the one to wake him.
Then he felt Milo’s hand slide down over his hoodie, slow and deliberate.
At first, he thought it was just sleep-heavy movement. But then warm fingers slipped beneath the fabric and brushed lightly against his bare stomach.
Jordan’s breath hitched.
And that’s when he knew, Milo wasn’t asleep.
A soft brush of lips traced the underside of his jaw, feather light and way too intentional.
“Good morning,” Milo murmured against his skin, voice low and husky from sleep. The kind of voice that made it really hard to think straight.
Jordan swallowed, trying to keep still, trying not to give in. “Milo…”
But Milo just smiled against his throat, his hand dragging higher, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.
His leg slid between Jordan’s, his body pressing in a little closer, warm and tempting.
Jordan turned his head, their noses nearly touching now. “Milo,” he said again, more serious this time.
Milo blinked up at him, wide-eyed and innocent—except they both knew better. “What?” he whispered, all faux innocence, lips ghosting over Jordan’s jaw again. “I’m just saying good morning.”
Jordan inhaled sharply, his hand tightening slightly at Milo’s waist. “This…” He searched Milo’s eyes. “This isn’t the solution.”
Milo didn’t pull away. But the teasing in his expression wavered, just a little. “I know.”
Jordan touched his forehead to Milo’s, his voice gentler now. “You’re just trying to distract yourself.”
“Maybe,” Milo said quietly, not denying it. “Is that so bad?”
Jordan looked at him for a long moment. “Not bad. Just… not honest.”
Milo closed his eyes and exhaled, a breath that sounded more tired than sultry. “I just don’t want to talk about it yet.”
“You don’t have to,” Jordan said quickly. “We’ll get there when you’re ready.”
Milo nodded, brushing his thumb against Jordan’s side. “Just let me stay like this a little longer.”
Jordan didn’t hesitate. He pulled him in tighter, one hand curling protectively around the back of Milo’s neck.
“You can stay as long as you need.”
Milo buried his face in Jordan’s shoulder again, quieter now.
━━❃❃❃━━
Eve never managed to fall back asleep after that strange dream, whatever it had been.
She tried. She lay there, eyes closed, blanket pulled up to her chin, body perfectly still as if pretending to sleep could trick her brain into peace.
But it didn’t work. The images came back the second her eyelids fluttered shut.
The sky had been splitting open like shattered glass, black and violet cracks crawling across it.
And those wings, massive and bright, terrifying in a way that wasn’t violent, just too big to be safe.
Like they weren’t meant to be seen by someone like her.
And then there was that feeling. A pressure behind her ribs, like something had broken its way into her chest and decided to stay there, heavy and alive.
This wasn’t a dream. Not a normal one, anyway.
But no matter how long she stared at the ceiling, she couldn’t figure out what it meant.
That was the part eating at her.
And Elias’s drawing didn’t help. In fact, it made everything worse.
He’d sketched it perfectly, every single thing she saw, down to the shape of the sky and the angle of the wings, and he sent it to her without even knowing what she’d experienced.
She hadn’t said a word. Not to him. Not to anyone.
So how the hell did he know?
Eve let out a groan and flopped onto her side, shoving the blanket away from her legs like it had suddenly turned into molten lava.
The air in her room felt thick, like heat had pooled in all the corners.
Her thoughts were too loud, buzzing under her skin like static.
She rolled again and buried her face into the pillow, muffling a groan of frustration.
Then she yanked the pillow out from under herself, as if it had personally offended her, and stared up at the ceiling with her hair in her face and her heart still pounding from nothing.
“What does any of this mean?” she asked the room, her voice quiet but hoarse, like it was getting tired of carrying questions.
Her fingers found the edge of the blanket again and twisted it. “It started with those wings at school, didn’t it?”
And ever since then, nothing had felt right.
She sat up, back pressed to the wall, knees drawn in slightly.
Her fingers curled into her sleeves, and she stared ahead like she expected the wall to c***k open and spill out some long lost truth she wasn’t ready for.
Her chest felt tight, like it was too small for her lungs. Her head throbbed.
She didn’t even know what she was hoping for, just something. Anything to make it make sense. A sign.
And then
Knock knock.
“Eve? You okay in there?”
She froze.
It was Jonathan. Her dad’s voice, soft and concerned, just on the other side of the door.
Too perfect.
Her eyes widened a little. Her brain scrambled back through the past few seconds.
Had she actually said that out loud? Asked for a sign?
Because if she had, and he showed up right then…
Her heart kicked once, hard. Not out of fear, but something quieter.
That eerie kind of alertness when everything feels just a little too well, timed. Like the world is suddenly listening too closely.
“…Yeah,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual, steady. “One sec.”
She tossed off the rest of the blanket, pushed her legs over the side of the bed, and slipped her feet into the worn slippers beside it.
Her limbs felt leaden, like they weren’t entirely hers. Her head was heavier still, weighed down by everything she didn’t understand.
She crossed the room, pulled open the door.
No one was there.
The hallway stretched out in both directions, silent and still. No lights. No footsteps fading away. No shadow around the corner.
Just empty space and darkness and a kind of hush that made her feel like the house itself was holding its breath.
Eve blinked once, then leaned out a little and looked both ways.
“¿Papá?” she called, louder this time.
Nothing.
Not even the creak of the floorboards.
She waited, hoping maybe...maybe he’d answer. But all she got was silence. Thick, unmoving silence that curled into her ears and stayed there.
She tightened her grip on the doorframe and stared a little longer, just in case something shifted in the shadows.
She knew she’d heard him. She wasn’t that tired. His voice had been clear. Gentle. Right outside her door.
“…This house is too quiet,” she muttered under her breath, almost to herself.
Still nothing.
After a moment, she stepped back and shut the door.
She turned to walk back toward the bed.
And stopped cold.
The air had changed.
It hit her like a wave, sudden and freezing. The warmth she’d been complaining about just seconds ago was gone, replaced by something sharp and cold that cut through her shirt sleeves.
Her arms prickled. The hair at the back of her neck lifted.
She didn’t have to look. She knew something was different.
Her eyes slowly scanned the room.
That’s when she saw it.
The curtain near the window was moving. Swaying, just slightly, like it was being stirred by a breeze.
But the window was shut. She knew it was.
A chill crawled down her spine.
She stood completely still, barely even breathing. Something in her told her not to move. Not yet.
But of course, she turned.
And standing in front of her bed, right where she’d been lying moments ago, was a figure.
A tall figure with large wings that seemed to make the room look small.
Eve froze, her chest tightening. Her heart slammed in her chest, and before she could even think, her knees gave out.
The last thing she saw was his unreadable face as the world around her went black.
- Writer
