To Wake a Fallen star

Between Worlds

Asteria

The weekend slipped through my fingers, fragile and uncertain, each day caught between the ordinary and the unreal. I stayed at Julian's apartment, hiding from the noise outside and the unrest settling inside me. Yet even within those walls, a quiet tension lingered at the edges.

Sleep had abandoned me. Hours stretched endlessly, leaving only the residue of nightmares clinging to my skin.

Each morning brought no relief, only exhaustion settling deep into my bones.

Even with Julian near, his steady heartbeat couldn't fully soothe the shadows pressing at my mind.

I laughed when I was supposed to, spoke when it was expected, cooked beside him as if nothing were wrong. But the unease remained.

Julian noticed anyway.

Saturday morning, he reached for my hand, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face.

"You don't have to pretend. We'll get through this together."

His kindness settled over me like a quiet promise, and I let it ground me throughout the weekend, easing the fear beneath my skin.

By Sunday afternoon, we almost forgot about the shadows.

Sunlight spilled through the windows, bathing the kitchen in gold. Julian hummed as he stirred the sauce, and I leaned against the counter.

He slowly pressed the spoon to my lips, giving me a taste of it, something unreadable passing his eyes for a moment.

"It's perfect," I said, smiling. "And no kitchen disasters this time."

He rolled his eyes. "Are you seriously keeping score?"

"Every heroic deed deserves recognition," I grinned, bumping his shoulder.

He shook his head, amusement tugging at his lips. "Still don't trust you with knives."

"I've only cut myself twice."

"Three times. The potato incident counts."

I groaned. "We agreed never to speak of that again."

"I agreed to nothing." He smirked.

"You did when you almost burned down the kitchen."

"That was me testing your reflexes."

He turned back to the stove, relaxed and unhurried, a light laugh slipping out before he went completely still. His fingers hovered in midair, gaze unfocused, as if a moment had slipped out of place.

"Julian?" I asked softly, a hint of worry in my voice.

He blinked. "What?"

"You stopped."

"No, I didn't."

"You looked like someone pressed pause on you."

His frown deepened, and for a fraction of a second, I saw something like doubt flicker in his eyes.

"I wasn't paused."

He shook it off and went back to the pan, sprinkling salt with careful precision. But his eyes drifted toward the fern by the window. Too long. Too focused. Something about the way he watched it felt off.

"Are you flirting with your plant again?" I teased.

"I do not flirt with plants," he said, still staring at it like it held some secret. "It's… telling me something."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "And what is it saying?"

"It didn't like that I chopped the basil yesterday," he replied like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"You… what?" I laughed. " So it has opinions on cooking?"

"Of course," he said, dead serious. "Very particular opinions."

I stepped closer, smirking. "Did it… sigh?"

"Yes," he nodded slightly. "And I think it's disappointed in your choice of herbs."

"I'm being judged by a plant?" I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"Perfectly reasonable," he said, turning back to the pan. "I'd be furious too if someone ruined my seasoning."

I shook my head, still chuckling.

"Maybe I'll try talking to it too. But if we fight, I'll blame you."

Julian smiled, calm and oddly… strange. "Fair. Don't forget it doesn't like being lied to."

He carefully finished arranging the last dish, wiping his hands on a towel, and then he instantly stiffened. His body went rigid, a hitch in his breath betraying him.

I watched him for a long moment, guilt curling in my chest. He had spent the entire weekend caring for me, shielding me from the chaos I couldn't escape. And I had done so little in return, nothing to ease his burdens.

I rose quietly, closing the space between us, and wrapped my arms around him from behind. He leaned into me, gradually relaxing, pressing closer as if he needed the grounding as much as I did. I pressed my cheek to his back, inhaling his sweet, familiar scent.

My hands traced circles along the knots in his shoulders.

"Relax," I whispered.

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head. "You're… dangerous," he murmured.

A low hum escaped him, and I felt a shiver run through his spine. I could feel his focus slipping entirely.

The kitchen, the sunlight, even the soft murmur of the apartment faded.

There was only us. Warmth, quiet intimacy, trust.

I leaned closer, brushing soft kisses along his neck.

Everything ceased to exist. There was only the unspoken promise that we would always care for each other.

And then, from the corner of my eye, I saw it.

A massive, unnervingly still raven perched on the window ledge. Its feathers shimmered with an oily darkness beneath the fogged glass, each shift sending a ripple through the air. Its gaze pressed into my chest like cold fingers.

Something about the raven was wrong. It was too still. Too aware. Too patient. It looked like it already knew me.

Julian's hands were already on me, his lips teasing my earlobes, his warmth sinking deep beneath my skin. The world narrowed to the feel of him, and I didn't want to lose it. The rest of the world could wait.

I drew him toward the bedroom. A soft sound slipped from my lips as he pressed my hips closer, his mouth crashing into mine, swallowing my moan as desire coiled tight between us.

With one swift movement, I slipped out of my top while he lifted my skirt, revealing delicate black lace beneath. He smirked at the sight, lowering himself, leaving a slow trail of heat across my chest that made my breath hitch.

I melted into him, dizzy with anticipation as his fingers teased through the lace, unhurried, deliberate.

Craving spread like fire, curling through every nerve. His warm breath skimmed my skin, his beard grazing just enough to make me tremble against the wall.

Then he sank lower, savoring every reaction, pulling away the last barrier between us.

He lifted my legs over his shoulders, pinning me there as if I weighed nothing.

A sharp tremor raced through me at the wet trail of his tongue.

His mouth claimed me with tender, intoxicating hunger, drawing a broken sound from my throat as my knees threatened to give way. My fingers traced the solid lines of his shoulders, the world condensing to the steady rhythm he set, the way he held me as though he couldn't bear to let go.

"God, the way you sound…" he growled, his grip tightening, fingers digging into my flesh.

My hips moved instinctively, seeking more, unable to bear the slow torture he gave so generously.

The heat built fast, sharp, consuming, until my thoughts dissolved into pure sensation.

Each flick of his tongue blurred the room around us. His possessive hold kept me steady even as I unraveled under his touch.

A playful pinch pulled a helpless gasp from my lips, and warmth swept through me all at once. Overwhelming, dizzying, impossible to hold back.

For a moment, I was lost to the hunger in his gaze as he watched me fall apart.

He lowered me slowly, my legs quivering as my feet met the floor. I reached for him, trying to pull him closer, but he was already turning me toward the wall.

His hands slid down my sides, guiding my hips, urging me back against him. My pulse stumbled, breath catching as I felt the heat of him, the promise pressed firm and undeniable.

He teased me deliberately, sliding just enough to make me plead.

"I need to feel you…" The words left me on a broken whisper.

He fulfilled my request, slow and deliberate, savoring every second.

His teeth grazed my shoulder, making my head fall forward against the cool wall.

He held me firmly, tenderly, as if he knew just how close I was to slipping under again.

His groans, low and rough, vibrated against my back, each one pulling another sound from my lips.

The pace deepened, urgent, hungry, perfectly in sync. I arched into him, senses blurring into motion, into heat, into the relentless pull claiming us both.

My body answered before I could think, tightening around every shift of his hips, drawn closer and closer to the edge all over again.

My breath hitched as he pressed me back against his chest, every heartbeat dragging me nearer. His mouth found my neck, his hands gripping my chest with reverent intensity. My vision sparked, my body tightening as everything rushed toward a breaking point.

And I fell apart in his arms, the sound of him groaning into my ear sending shivers down my spine.

The world went white.

We crashed onto the bed, limbs tangled, breathless. For a while, neither of us spoke, simply letting reality settle slowly around us.

"Well," I murmured with a shaky laugh, "if that doesn't help me sleep, I don't know what will," I chuckled as I stared into his deep gaze.

His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns across my back, and the warmth of his chest wrapped around me like a shield. I felt my muscles loosen, my eyelids growing heavy with every second passing by.

For the first time in what felt like forever, it all faded to nothing.

Just as sleep began to claim me, my gaze drifted to the window. The raven was still there, perched silently on the ledge looking like it was watching us the entire time.

Its feathers shimmered unnaturally in the dim light, blacker than any shadow, and its gaze felt like it pressed through the glass straight into my soul.

My last conscious thought before slipping fully under was simple and chilling.

The raven's eyes hadn't blinked once. They glowed faintly in the dark, sharp and knowing. As if they could see everything buried deep inside me.

And I knew, with a chill that sank to my bones, that I couldn't escape whatever was coming.