Life after the accident became a balancing act, a delicate dance of unspoken emotions and unacknowledged shifts. Daemon had softened, but in his own guarded way. He was still cold, still distant, but there was a subtle change—a barely perceptible shift in the air between us. He wasn't openly hostile anymore, though his way of showing care was hidden behind sharp words and a carefully controlled politeness.
In the months that followed, I found myself navigating this strange new dynamic with Daemon. There were moments when I caught him looking at me, something unreadable in his gaze, but just as quickly, he would turn away, walls firmly in place. He still couldn't bring himself to be vulnerable, to admit that the accident had changed things between us. But I could feel it—small cracks in the ice that had once surrounded him.
And just as I was learning to walk this fragile line with Daemon, Markus re-entered my life in a way that caught me completely off guard.
---
Markus had been around for as long as I could remember, the son of my father's close friend. He was everything Daemon wasn't—warm, charismatic, and effortlessly charming. With his easy smile and laid-back demeanor, Markus could make anyone feel at ease. He had always been there in the background of my life, a steady presence that never demanded too much attention. But after the accident, Markus began to fill the gaps that Daemon left behind, and I didn't even realize it was happening.
It started with small gestures. One afternoon, I was sitting in the library, buried in books, struggling to focus on an essay. I was distracted, my thoughts still lingering on the tension that had settled between Daemon and me. That's when Markus appeared, unannounced, carrying a box of pastries from my favorite bakery. He placed the box down beside me with a smile that felt as warm as the sunlight streaming through the window.
"I remembered you mentioned these the last time we talked," he said, sliding the box closer to me. His voice was gentle, familiar, a stark contrast to the coldness I had grown used to with Daemon. "Thought you could use a little pick-me-up."
I looked up from my notebook, surprised but not entirely unhappy to see him. There was something comforting about Markus—something easy. He never pushed too far, never demanded more than I was willing to give. I appreciated that, especially after the emotional landmine that was my relationship with Daemon.
"Thanks," I said, opening the box. The smell of fresh pastries filled the room, and I smiled. "You didn't have to."
Markus shrugged, leaning back in his chair. His eyes, a warm shade of hazel, twinkled with a casual sincerity. "I wanted to. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't spoil you every once in a while?"
There it was again, that subtle warmth. It hovered at the edge of something more, something unspoken. But Markus never pushed. He was always careful, always respectful of the boundaries I hadn't even realized I had set.
I liked that about him.
After the tension with Daemon, Markus was a breath of fresh air. He didn't ask for anything more than I was willing to give, and I appreciated the simplicity of that. But even in the simplicity, there was a growing complexity—one I wasn't sure I was ready to face.
---
As Markus began visiting more often, dropping by with little gifts—pastries, books, or just to check in—Daemon's silence became more pronounced. Markus never overstayed his welcome, never imposed, but his presence filled the spaces that Daemon left behind. He would sit with me in the library or the garden, sharing quiet moments that felt natural, easy. He was the safe choice, the constant presence, the one who was always there when Daemon wasn't.
At first, Daemon didn't say much. He would watch from a distance, his icy blue eyes tracking our movements, his expression unreadable. But I could feel the tension growing beneath the surface, like a storm waiting to break. Daemon's gaze lingered on Markus longer than necessary, his jaw tightening ever so slightly whenever Markus laughed or leaned in too close.
One evening, that tension finally spilled over.
Markus had stopped by after dinner, bringing a new book he thought I'd like. We were sitting on the back porch, the soft evening breeze carrying the scent of jasmine through the air. Markus was in the middle of telling me about a new project he was working on when Daemon appeared in the doorway, his presence a sudden shadow against the fading light.
"Markus," Daemon greeted, his voice calm, almost too calm. He nodded curtly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I didn't realize you were such an avid reader."
Markus looked up, his easy smile never faltering. "I like to broaden my horizons," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Figured she might enjoy this one."
Daemon's gaze flicked to me, his eyes narrowing slightly, though his face remained impassive. "How considerate."
There was something sharp beneath his words, a tension that Markus seemed to either miss or ignore. Markus, always the master of casual charm, simply shrugged and smiled, completely unfazed.
"I try to be," Markus replied, his tone light. "She deserves a little distraction every now and then."
Daemon's eyes darkened, the tension between them thickening like a wire pulled too tight. He didn't respond, but the silence spoke volumes. Without another word, Daemon turned and walked back inside, his departure casting a shadow over the otherwise peaceful evening.
---
Markus's visits became more frequent after that, but the dynamic between the three of us grew more complicated. Daemon rarely spoke about Markus, but I could feel the growing disapproval in the way his gaze lingered on him. His normally clipped responses to Markus's polite conversation became colder, more controlled.
One afternoon, Markus had come by to help me with schoolwork. We sat at the dining table, his presence as familiar as ever. I was in the middle of explaining something when Daemon walked by, his eyes briefly meeting mine before sliding over to Markus.
Daemon's lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening as he turned away without another word. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to choke on, but Markus didn't seem to notice—or if he did, he didn't care.
Later that evening, after Markus had left, Daemon finally spoke.
"You know he's getting too close," Daemon said, his voice calm but measured, the words laced with something that made my stomach twist. "Markus has been hovering around more than necessary."
I looked at him, confused. "He's just being nice. He's always been like that."
Daemon's eyes narrowed, the icy blue of his gaze sharper than usual. "Nice isn't the word I'd use."