Key Story (2) - Chapter 16
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a soft amber glow over the quiet streets as Raxian made his way to Sable's place. It had been a while since he last visited during the evening. His morning had been spent catching up with Raze, but now his mind was entirely on Sable. His steps felt heavier as he walked, not from exhaustion but from the weight of everything he'd been carrying lately—his concern for Sable, his thoughts about Raze, and the responsibility he had taken on.
Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to help. Raze had been there for him for so long, and now, Sable needed him in a way no one else did. They had both lost something recently, and though they weren't talking about it, their silence was comfortable, their bond unspoken but understood.
As he reached Sable's apartment, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the door. His dad had sent him a message earlier, reminding him to check on her, but Raxian would've come regardless. It had become part of his routine now, making sure she wasn't alone for too long, that she had someone to keep her grounded. He punched in the familiar code to her building and made his way upstairs.
When she opened the door, Sable looked as she always did—her hair tied up loosely, wearing a sweater that seemed too big for her. But there was a slight difference now. She wasn't retreating to her room when he entered. She was there, present, standing in the doorway and not disappearing as she had before.
"Hey," Raxian greeted softly, offering a small smile.
Sable nodded, stepping aside to let him in. He noticed she was holding a small plate, and on it was a half-eaten apple. It was the first time in weeks that he'd seen her eating something that wasn't an untouched plate left by her dad. Progress, he thought. Small, but it was there.
Raxian walked inside, setting his backpack down by the couch as he always did. The apartment was quiet, but not in a way that felt stifling. He glanced at the time and realized that the evening was creeping up on them. The orange hue from the window had deepened into a dull pink, and he figured her dad would be gone by now.
"You eaten dinner yet?" he asked, his tone casual, though he already knew the answer.
Sable shook her head, nibbling at the apple. She looked down at the floor, but didn't pull away.
Raxian hesitated for a moment, then decided to offer, "I could make something. It's not going to be gourmet or anything, but... I learned a couple of things from my parents. Nothing fancy."
Sable didn't respond right away, but she didn't reject the offer either. After a moment of silence, she gave a slight nod.
Raxian took that as a yes.
He moved into the kitchen, scanning the pantry and fridge for anything he could work with. It wasn't well-stocked—he figured her dad hadn't had much time for shopping, considering everything that had happened—but there were some basics: pasta, tomatoes, garlic, and a few eggs. Simple enough.
As he got to work, Raxian couldn't help but steal glances at Sable, who had taken a seat at the table, still holding her apple. She was watching him, her eyes following his movements, though she kept a certain distance. It wasn't the cold, detached distance from before, but more of a quiet observation, as if she was trying to let herself be there without fully diving back into the world.
Raxian chopped the tomatoes, heating the pan with oil. The sizzle of garlic filled the air, and he started to relax a bit. "You know," he began, trying to keep his voice light, "my mom always said cooking is about love. It's one of the few things she says that I actually believe."
He wasn't sure why he mentioned it, but it felt right in the moment. Sable didn't respond, but he thought he saw the corner of her lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile.
By the time he finished, the sun had fully set, and the apartment was bathed in the soft glow of the kitchen light. He'd made a simple dish of pasta with a light tomato sauce and a fried egg on top. Not exactly restaurant quality, but it smelled good enough to him.
He plated two servings, setting one in front of her. "No pressure if you're not hungry," he said gently, "but I figured I'd make some for you too, just in case."
Sable looked at the plate for a long moment before picking up her fork. She didn't dive into the food, but she took a small bite, testing it. Raxian watched from the corner of his eye, his heart lifting when she didn't push the plate away.
They ate quietly, side by side at the table, neither speaking much. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke more than words could, a quiet understanding between them that things were moving forward, however slowly.
After they finished, Raxian offered to wash up, but Sable stopped him with a small shake of her head. "I'll... do it," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Raxian blinked in surprise but nodded, stepping back to let her. As she stood at the sink, rinsing the dishes, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of hope. She was still guarded, still closed off in so many ways, but she was trying. And that was more than enough for him right now.
He leaned against the counter, watching her for a moment, then quietly said, "Thanks for letting me stay."
Sable didn't look up, but he saw her shoulders relax just slightly. She didn't need to say anything. He knew she was grateful, in her own way.
As the night deepened, Raxian made a silent promise to himself: he would be here, however long it took. For Sable, for Raze, for all the people who mattered to him.
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The quiet lingered between them after dinner, the faint sound of the dishes clinking as Sable washed up. Raxian stood leaning against the counter, feeling the warmth of the moment. He hadn't expected her to join him for dinner, let alone take over the washing up. For once, the silence didn't feel like a wall between them but something softer, more open.
When she finished, Sable dried her hands and stood still for a moment, her back turned to him. Raxian didn't press her, just watching quietly, waiting to see if she'd say something. She surprised him by turning around and leaning against the counter beside him, her arms crossed lightly over her chest.
They stood like that for a while, and Raxian wondered if that was all there would be for tonight. But then, she spoke, her voice so quiet he almost missed it.
"I've been thinking a lot," Sable began, her eyes focused on the floor. "About... everything."
Raxian's chest tightened a little. He didn't want to push her, but hearing her speak after so much silence felt like progress. He shifted slightly to face her, his tone gentle. "What about?"
Sable took a breath, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater. "I guess... about how things got so messed up." She hesitated, her eyes flicking up to meet his for a brief second before they dropped back down. "I've been wondering if... I'll ever feel normal again."
Raxian's heart ached at the vulnerability in her words. He wasn't sure what to say that wouldn't sound empty or dismissive, so he opted for honesty. "I don't know if 'normal' is something that comes back all at once," he said softly. "But you've come a long way, even if it doesn't feel like it."
Sable nodded, but she didn't seem convinced. "I don't feel like I've come very far," she admitted, her voice wavering slightly. "I still can't leave the apartment without..."
Her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes for a moment as if she was trying to find the right words. "It's like I'm stuck in this place," she continued, her voice quieter now. "And I hate it. I hate feeling this way."
Raxian stayed silent, giving her the space to say what she needed. He could feel the weight of her struggle in her words, and it made him feel powerless. He had been there for her physically, but he knew he couldn't heal the emotional wounds.
Sable opened her eyes again, but she still didn't look at him. Instead, she looked down at her hands, her fingers brushing lightly over the silver bracelet on her wrist. "This was my mom's," she said softly, tracing the delicate chain. "I didn't really know her. She died when I was little, but I've always had this. It's... the one thing that makes me feel connected to her."
Raxian's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't known that about her. Sable rarely talked about her past, let alone something so personal. "I didn't know you had this," he said quietly, his gaze following the movements of her fingers.
She shrugged slightly, her voice quieter now. "I never really talked about it. I guess... I always felt like it wasn't important. But lately, I've been thinking about her a lot. About how she'd want me to be... stronger."
Raxian felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to tell her that she was strong—that even showing up in moments like this was proof of that. But he knew she wasn't ready to hear those words, not yet.
Instead, he reached out slowly, placing his hand gently over hers, careful not to startle her. "She'd be proud of you," he said softly. "For trying. For being here."
Sable didn't pull away, but she didn't say anything either. Her fingers remained still beneath his hand, and for a moment, the weight of everything felt lighter between them.
"I just... I don't know how to move forward," Sable admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I'm stuck in the past, in that moment."
Raxian's grip on her hand tightened just a little, a small gesture of reassurance. "You don't have to move forward all at once," he said gently. "Even just being here, talking to me—that's something. That's progress."
Sable was quiet for a long time, her eyes fixed on the bracelet. "Do you ever feel like... you can't get past something? Like it just stays with you no matter how hard you try to move on?"
Raxian hesitated, but then nodded. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice low. "I've felt that way before. I still do, sometimes. But I guess... the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that I'm not alone in it."
Sable glanced up at him then, her eyes searching his. For the first time in a long while, Raxian saw a flicker of something he hadn't seen before—hope, maybe, or at least the hint of it.
They stayed like that for a moment, the quiet stretching between them, but this time it wasn't heavy. It was a moment of connection, fragile but real.
"Thanks," Sable said softly, her voice almost breaking. "For being here."
Raxian squeezed her hand gently before letting go, offering her a small smile. "Always."
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The evening had settled in, casting long shadows across the small living room. The soft hum of the refrigerator in the background was the only sound that filled the apartment. Raxian sat on one end of the couch, his body angled toward Sable, who was at the opposite end. For a long time, she had always chosen the armchair, the space farthest from him. But now, sitting together on the couch—even with the cushion of distance between them—it felt like progress. A step closer.
They hadn't spoken much since he arrived, but Raxian didn't mind. The silence between them had grown familiar, comfortable even. He glanced over at Sable, watching the way her eyes flickered toward the kitchen as if lost in thought. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the bracelet on her wrist, the one she hadn't taken off since that day.
He'd often thought about asking her to come outside again, maybe suggesting a walk. But every time the thought crossed his mind, he remembered the last time—how the weight of the outside world had overwhelmed her, how she had retreated back inside, pulling her defenses up around her like armor. He didn't want to push her. Not again.
So, they sat together, letting the stillness stretch out between them, neither in a rush to fill the space with words. Raxian knew that for Sable, his presence alone was enough—being there, offering his quiet support. She had let him into this space, and that was something. He didn't dare cross any further boundaries than the ones she had already let him into. He kept to the living room and the kitchen when he visited. He'd never seen her room. That small mystery lingered in the back of his mind, but he never asked. It wasn't his place, not yet.
The evening light softened, casting a warm glow over the room as they sat in the quiet, side by side, yet still apart. Sable, sitting on the far end of the couch, glanced over at him. She wasn't curled up or closed off like she usually was—her body language, though still reserved, wasn't defensive anymore. She was present.
After a while, she finally broke the silence, her voice quiet but clear. "I haven't been sleeping well."
Raxian looked over at her, a soft concern in his eyes, but he didn't interrupt. He knew better than to rush her when she chose to speak.
"I keep... thinking about things. About who I used to be, before everything happened," she continued, her voice growing softer with each word. Her fingers traced the bracelet again, her thumb brushing over the faint marks underneath it. "I don't even recognize myself anymore, Rax."
Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of her uncertainty, her pain. Raxian shifted slightly, leaning forward just a little, his hands resting in his lap. He wanted to say something, to offer her reassurance, but he knew this was one of those moments where words wouldn't be enough. So he just listened.
Sable's gaze dropped to the floor. "I don't know if I'll ever be the same again."
Raxian's voice was soft when he finally spoke. "Maybe you're not supposed to be the same. Maybe that's okay."
She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of uncertainty and something else—something like hope, but not fully formed. It had been a long time since she'd let herself hope for anything.
Raxian shifted closer on the couch, still keeping some space between them but moving just enough to show her he was there, fully present. "I know things are hard right now. And I know I can't fix everything, but... I want you to know you don't have to go through it alone."
Sable was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. She felt the warmth of his presence beside her, the weight of his words like a lifeline tethering her to something real, something she wasn't sure she could hold onto by herself.
Raxian watched her, his gaze soft and understanding, as if he was telling her without words that he was there, no matter how long it took for her to heal. The silence between them stretched again, but it didn't feel empty. It was filled with unspoken promises and quiet support.
After a while, Sable shifted on the couch, her body language relaxing just a fraction. She looked down at the bracelet on her wrist, her fingers tracing the design absentmindedly. Raxian's eyes followed her movements, his attention drawn to the bracelet—the symbol of both her trauma and her resilience. He hesitated for a moment before gently reaching out.
His fingers brushed against her wrist, featherlight at first, as if asking for permission without saying a word. Sable didn't pull away. She didn't tense. Instead, she allowed the contact, the trust between them growing just a little stronger.
Raxian's thumb traced the edge of the bracelet, his touch gentle, careful. He let his hand linger there for a moment before moving lower, brushing against the faint marks still visible underneath. His heart tightened at the sight, the reminders of everything she had been through. The guilt he carried weighed heavily on him, but he didn't want her to see it, didn't want to burden her with his own pain. Instead, he let his actions speak for him.
He leaned down slowly, pressing a soft, tender kiss to the marks on her wrist. It was a quiet gesture, filled with more meaning than words could convey. He lingered there for a moment, his lips against her skin, before pulling back just slightly.
"Sable..." His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with emotion. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."
His words hung in the air, filled with the weight of his regret, his guilt. He wanted to say more, to apologize for everything, for not being there when she needed him most, but he couldn't. All he could do was hold her wrist gently, offering her the only kind of comfort he knew how to give.
Sable didn't respond immediately. Her gaze stayed on her wrist, on the marks that still reminded her of that day. But she didn't pull away from him. She didn't retreat. Slowly, she let herself lean into his presence, her body relaxing just a little more as the silence between them grew comfortable again.
It wasn't a grand gesture, but it was enough. For now, this was all they needed. A quiet understanding, a shared space where they could begin to heal together.
As the evening settled into night, the room grew darker, but neither of them moved. They stayed there on the couch, close but not too close, both of them finding solace in the quiet, in the shared company. Raxian didn't cross any further boundaries, knowing that for now, just being there was enough. And as they sat in the growing darkness, he knew that this was the beginning of something. Something fragile, but real.
And he would be there, for as long as she needed him.
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That morning light, soft and gentle, streamed in through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the small living room. Raxian blinked awake, his body slightly stiff from having fallen asleep on the couch. As he shifted, he realized there was a weight leaning against him.
His breath caught when he saw Sable. She had shifted in her sleep, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. It wasn't something he had expected—he doubted she had done it intentionally—but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she looked peaceful. Her face, usually tight with tension or anxiety, was relaxed. There was no trace of the restless energy she carried with her. She looked like she was sleeping deeply, almost like… a baby.
Raxian watched her for a moment, his gaze softening as he remembered what she had told him—how she hadn't been sleeping well, how her mind had been filled with thoughts of the past. But right now, she seemed so at peace, so calm. Could it have been… him? He didn't dare hope, but the thought lingered in the back of his mind.
Carefully, as if afraid to wake her, he reached up and gently brushed a loose lock of hair away from her face, his fingers barely grazing her skin. His heart swelled at the sight of her like this—vulnerable, calm, and maybe even… content, if only for a fleeting moment.
He knew she would probably straighten herself the moment she woke up, maybe pull away like she always did. But for now, he wanted to savor the moment, this rare glimpse of peace she seemed to have found.
With a soft sigh, Raxian slowly began to shift, carefully lifting her head from his shoulder and leaning her gently against the armrest of the couch instead. He moved slowly, making sure not to wake her, his movements quiet and deliberate. Once she was settled, he stood, stretching the stiffness out of his limbs.
As he walked toward the kitchen, he glanced back at her one last time. She was still asleep, her breathing soft and steady. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
He didn't want to disturb her, but he could at least do something to make her morning a little brighter. So, without a second thought, he made his way into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast. He wasn't the best cook, but he knew his way around the basics. Eggs, toast, and maybe some tea—something simple, thoughtful. Something to remind her that he was still here, still taking care of her in the ways he could.
As he worked, his thoughts drifted back to the night before. The way she had opened up, just a little. The way she had let him in, even if only for a moment. It wasn't much, but it was progress, and that was enough for now.
With a contented sigh, Raxian focused on preparing the meal, the soft clatter of dishes filling the quiet apartment. For the first time in a while, he felt a sense of hope stirring inside him. Small steps, he reminded himself. Small steps toward healing, for both of them.
And maybe, just maybe, this morning would be the first of many where Sable could find peace—even if just for a little while.
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As Sable slowly stirred from sleep, her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she couldn't quite place where she was. The couch beneath her felt unfamiliar, and there was a strange comfort she wasn't used to. Then she noticed the blanket draped over her, and the faint sound of movement from the kitchen. The quiet clatter of dishes reminded her of who had been with her the night before.
Raxian.
Sable sat up, her mind piecing together the events of the previous night. She glanced at the empty spot beside her, where he must have been sitting. She felt a strange pang of warmth in her chest, knowing she had fallen asleep next to him. More than that, the thought that she had leaned on him—actually leaned on someone after everything she had been through—left her feeling both vulnerable and a little overwhelmed.
Her eyes landed on Raxian, who stood in the kitchen, quietly preparing breakfast. He hadn't noticed she was awake yet, and for a moment, she simply watched him. The way he moved, careful and thoughtful, making sure not to make too much noise. It was such a simple thing, and yet, it was something she hadn't realized she needed.
The knot in her chest loosened slightly. Raxian had been there for her, more than anyone else had. He'd seen her at her lowest, her most broken, and still, he stayed. Even now, after everything, he was there. She didn't know how to handle that kind of patience, that kind of dedication.
She rubbed her eyes, brushing away the remnants of sleep. The faint sound of his humming reached her ears, and she smiled despite herself, though it faded quickly when she remembered how hard it had been to let anyone close, even him. But something about this moment—the quiet, the safety—made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could let him in a little more.
Raxian turned around just as Sable shifted on the couch, and their eyes met. He paused, holding a plate of toast and eggs in one hand, his expression softening when he realized she was awake.
"Hey," he said quietly, walking over to the couch. "You slept through the night."
Sable pulled the blanket tighter around her, nodding. "Yeah... I guess I did." Her voice was still groggy, but there was a trace of surprise in it, like she hadn't expected to sleep so peacefully.
Raxian smiled and placed the plate on the coffee table in front of her. "Made you something. Figured you'd be hungry." He settled down at the other end of the couch, keeping a comfortable distance, just as he always did.
Sable stared at the plate for a moment before looking back at him. "Thank you." Her words were soft, almost hesitant, but genuine.
Raxian waved it off with a casual shrug, though his expression held warmth. "It's nothing. I thought you could use something good after last night."
For a few moments, the silence between them wasn't awkward. It was comfortable, and Sable appreciated that he didn't push her for anything more. He never did. But today... she felt like maybe she owed him more than just quiet gratitude.
She picked at the edge of the toast, her fingers lightly tracing the grooves of the plate as she thought about how to start. She hadn't opened up much lately, hadn't felt ready, but now… sitting here with him, the weight of his constant support pressing gently against her defenses, she felt like she could share something.
She sat quietly for a moment, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. She was lost in her thoughts, feeling the weight of everything she hadn't said—everything she had kept inside. Raxian was right there, just a few feet away, his presence steady as always. It was comforting, but it also made her feel vulnerable, and vulnerability was something she wasn't used to anymore. Not since Lynx.
She swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she worked up the courage to speak. Finally, her voice broke the silence, low and hesitant. "You being here… it means a lot to me."
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Sable felt her chest tighten with uncertainty. She couldn't believe she had managed to say it, to admit something so deeply personal. She had always been used to handling things on her own, to being the one who didn't need anyone. But now… this was different.
Raxian turned to her, surprise flickering across his face, but he didn't rush to respond. He just listened, his expression softening as the weight of her admission settled between them.
Sable looked down at the bracelet on her wrist, tracing the familiar lines of it with her fingers. The faint marks beneath it felt like scars that would never fade, reminders of how much had changed. But here, with Raxian sitting beside her, it didn't feel as heavy as it usually did.
"I've never really let anyone in before," she continued, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "I've always been the one who... who handled things alone. It's just easier that way. But with you..." She hesitated, unsure of how to finish the sentence. The vulnerability made her feel exposed, but she pushed through it. "With you, it doesn't feel so lonely."
Raxian's gaze softened even more, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle. "You don't have to handle things alone anymore. I'm here for you, Sable. You don't have to be strong all the time."
Sable's heart tightened, but this time it wasn't from fear or pain. It was something else—something she hadn't felt in a long time. Trust. She had been so used to shutting people out, to keeping her distance, but with Raxian, it felt different. He wasn't asking for anything from her. He was just… there.
She met his eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel the need to pull away. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't know how to let people in without feeling like I'm losing control."
Raxian reached out then, his hand finding hers, and for a brief second, she stiffened at the contact. But she didn't pull away. His touch was gentle, reassuring, and as his fingers brushed against hers, she felt a small sense of relief wash over her.
"You're not losing control," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're gaining someone who cares. And I'm not going anywhere."
Sable looked down at their hands, her mind spinning with thoughts and emotions she couldn't fully understand. But for the first time, the chaos in her head didn't feel as overwhelming. Raxian's presence grounded her, gave her something to hold onto in the storm.
For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of her admission still hanging in the air. And then, before she could second-guess herself, Sable leaned in just slightly—closer than she had before. It wasn't much, but it was a step. A small step forward.
Raxian felt the shift in Sable, a fragile opening that hadn't been there before. Her admission, as small as it was, felt monumental, like a wall slowly crumbling between them. It was a side of her he hadn't seen in so long—if ever. The weight of the moment hung in the air, and Raxian knew, without words, how much it had taken for her to let him this close.
His eyes moved to her cheek, where the faint marks of her trauma still lingered, a constant reminder of what she had endured. He had always noticed them but never dared to touch, knowing how much pain they carried. But now, something inside him stirred—an overwhelming need to give her comfort, to reassure her in the only way he knew how.
Gently, his hand moved, his fingertips barely grazing the skin near her jawline, tracing the path of those faint scars. He saw the way she tensed ever so slightly, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. For a moment, he thought she might pull away, that he had crossed a boundary too soon. But she didn't.
Instead, she remained still, watching him, her breaths slow and shallow, as if she was testing herself, seeing how much she could allow.
Raxian swallowed the lump in his throat and leaned in, his lips hovering near her ear. His voice, when he spoke, was a soft murmur, barely louder than a breath. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you back then," he whispered, his words a quiet promise. "But I swear… I'll be here now. For as long as you need me."
The promise lingered in the air, carrying the weight of everything he couldn't say. Then, with careful, deliberate slowness, Raxian brushed his lips against her cheek, over the marks that Lynx had left. He moved so gently, afraid of doing anything that might break the fragile moment they were in, afraid she would pull away or close herself off again.
But she didn't. She remained still, her breath catching slightly, and for the first time, she didn't flinch. She didn't push him away.
The kiss was light, delicate, a gesture that held more meaning than any words could. It wasn't just a kiss—it was his way of telling her she wasn't broken, that the marks on her skin didn't define her. That no matter what had happened, he was there, and he wasn't going to leave.
For a moment, everything else faded—the trauma, the fear, the pain. All that existed was the quiet connection between them, a shared understanding that had taken so long to reach. And as Raxian pulled back slightly, he met her eyes, waiting for any sign that he had crossed a line. But instead of pulling away, she remained where she was, the space between them closer than it had ever been.
Sable felt her heart pounding in her chest as Raxian's lips brushed gently over the faint marks on her cheek. She hadn't flinched, hadn't pulled away. Instead, she'd let him in, just a little further, and the weight of that realization left her feeling both exposed and… comforted.
He pulled back slowly, his hand still resting gently on her wrist, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles over her skin. His presence was like a steady current, grounding her in the moment.
Without thinking, Sable found herself leaning forward. She didn't know why or even how the decision had formed, but she didn't stop herself this time. It wasn't a kiss she sought—she wasn't ready for that—but she needed something, some form of connection that wasn't overwhelming, that didn't push her too far, too fast.
Her forehead rested against his, and for a moment, the world quieted. The chaos of her thoughts stilled as she let herself lean into him, into the comfort and safety he'd built around her. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath, the calm of his presence.
It was the closest she had been to anyone in months, and for once, it didn't feel terrifying. It felt... safe.
Raxian didn't move, didn't speak. He simply let her rest her forehead against his, the silence between them stretching in a way that felt right. His hand tightened around hers just slightly, a small but reassuring gesture, as if to say, I'm here. I'll wait.
Sable stayed like that for a long moment, breathing him in, letting herself exist in this space without fear. The weight of the past weeks didn't feel as suffocating with him there, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to simply be—without the pressure of healing, without the pressure of moving forward too quickly. She was still broken in some places, still fragile, but here, in this moment, she didn't feel alone.
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The late afternoon sun had long begun its descent, casting a golden hue over the city as Raxian and Sable made their way outside. For Sable, each step still felt heavy, but this time, Raxian's presence lightened the burden, grounding her as she walked. His hand remained gently, reassuringly, on her shoulder, giving her the sense of security she so often lacked when she was alone. They didn't talk much as they walked, the silence between them filled with an understanding that had grown over time—an understanding that words couldn't fully express.
Raxian had assured her they didn't have to go far, that they could turn back whenever she wanted to, but Sable's feet seemed to know where they were taking her. Despite her initial hesitation, her steps led her toward a familiar place. And as they approached the park, she could feel the memories stirring within her, pulling her back to that cold winter night, to the bench where so much had changed for both of them.
Raxian noticed her pace slow as they neared the park bench. He glanced at her, not asking anything, just letting her take her time. He could sense the importance of this place to her—the way her gaze lingered on the familiar metal structure, as though it held something intangible, something between the past and the present.
When they reached the bench, Sable paused, staring at it for a long moment before finally sitting down. She exhaled softly, letting the weight of everything settle on her. It felt strange to be back here, in the same spot where they had shared a quiet moment during the winter break. Back then, she had barely recognized the significance of that encounter, of Raxian's presence by her side. But now… now she understood.
Raxian sat beside her, leaving the same small gap between them as before, respecting her space but staying close enough to let her know he was there. He didn't say anything, simply offering his presence—something steady, something she could lean on if she needed to.
Sable's mind drifted back to that night. She remembered how lost she had felt then, how hard it had been to admit that she didn't have everything figured out. Back then, Raxian had been the one wandering, unsure of where he was going, and she had tried to give him direction, to remind him that he wasn't alone. She hadn't realized then how much she would come to rely on his presence in the months that followed, how much he would become her anchor in a world that often felt like it was spinning out of control.
And now, sitting here again, she realized something else. Just as Raxian had silently promised her that he would be there for as long as it took, she had made her own promise in return.
Her fingers brushed against the bracelet on her wrist, the one that covered the marks left by Lynx's cruelty. She had spent so much time hiding those marks, hiding the pain that had come with them, but sitting here, with Raxian beside her, she didn't feel the need to hide anymore. Maybe she wasn't fully healed, maybe there was still a long road ahead, but she had taken a step. And that was something.
Sable glanced at Raxian, who was watching her quietly, his eyes full of unspoken understanding. For a brief moment, she thought about saying something, about voicing the gratitude that sat heavy in her chest. But the words felt too big, too complicated, and she knew they wouldn't come out the way she wanted them to.
Instead, she reached for his hand, the movement slow and hesitant at first, but when her fingers finally intertwined with his, she felt a small sense of relief. His grip tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was still there, still with her.
They sat like that for a while, the quiet park around them a peaceful contrast to the storm of emotions they had been carrying. The memories of their past encounters—of the bench during winter, and the balcony where they had shared so much—washed over her. And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the city, Sable felt a quiet promise take root in her heart.
She had spent so long feeling like she had to manage everything on her own, like she had to be strong for everyone around her. But now, with Raxian beside her, she realized that it was okay to let someone else be there for her, too. It was okay to lean on him, just as he had leaned on her in the past.
As the cool evening breeze rustled through the trees, Sable squeezed his hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of everything they had been through together. She didn't need to say anything—Raxian would understand. He always did.
And as the sun set, casting a warm, golden glow over the bench, Sable made her own quiet promise. She wasn't sure when she would fully be herself again, or when the scars of the past would fade, but she knew one thing: she would keep moving forward. Little by little, step by step, she would heal. And when the time was right, she would find the words to tell him just how much his presence had meant to her—how much it had saved her.
For now, though, the silence between them was enough. It was a silence filled with promises—promises of healing, of patience, and of a future that wasn't so uncertain anymore.
The road ahead was still long, but for the first time in a while, Sable felt like she could face it.
And with Raxian beside her, she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone.