The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of Sylus and Lucas's muted conversation in the distance. Rose lay still, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep, unaware of the subtle movements near her.
As she slept, a gentle, almost imperceptible touch brushed through her hair. Sylus stood at the side of the cot, his gaze soft as he carefully ran his fingers through her long, dark strands. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he were afraid to disturb the peace that settled over her.
He had always been good at masking his feelings, hiding behind a mask of stoicism. But moments like this—moments when Rose was completely vulnerable, completely unaware—let him lower his guard, if only for a brief time. He brushed her hair with the same care he would give to something fragile, something irreplaceable. His fingers lingered at the edges of her hair, brushing a stray curl behind her ear, and his eyes softened, conflicted with an emotion he couldn't fully name.
After a long moment, Sylus leaned down, his lips brushing lightly against her forehead in a gesture of affection. It was brief, but it carried an intimacy that spoke volumes—something that neither of them could fully comprehend yet, but something that neither could deny.
With one last look, Sylus stepped back, his heart racing with the realization of how deeply he was becoming entwined in Rose's world—and how dangerous it could be for both of them.
---
When Rose awoke, the room was bathed in soft morning light, and for a moment, she was disoriented, blinking slowly as the fog of sleep began to lift. She stretched, feeling the familiar ache in her muscles, but something else lingered in the air—a strange warmth, an intimate sensation that didn't quite belong in the cool, sterile atmosphere of their temporary hideout.
She reached up to touch her hair, feeling the gentle softness as her fingers brushed through it. It was smooth, almost as if someone had carefully untangled it while she slept. Her heart skipped a beat. Had she dreamt that someone had been brushing her hair? The sensation was too vivid to be dismissed as just a figment of her imagination. But who would have—?
Her thoughts froze, and her hand instinctively went to her forehead. A slight, lingering warmth radiated from the spot where she swore she'd felt a kiss just moments before. She flushed, her heart quickening as she sat up, glancing around the room in confusion.
Had it been a dream? A simple, comforting dream in the midst of all the chaos?
She glanced toward the door where Sylus and Lucas were talking quietly. Her gaze lingered on Sylus for a moment longer than necessary, but he didn't look at her. He was focused, purposeful—just as he always was. There was no hint of what she thought had happened the night before, no trace of the tenderness she had felt in her sleep.
Rose shook her head, her heart still racing, and pushed the thought away. It didn't matter, she told herself. It was just a dream, a fleeting moment of warmth in the midst of the storm.
But deep down, she knew she couldn't entirely ignore the soft touch she had felt. It was too real, too personal, to be written off as just a dream.
As she stood up and stretched, she caught Sylus's eye for a brief moment, but he quickly looked away. His demeanor was calm, but there was something in his eyes—something unreadable—that made her pulse quicken.
Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't imagining everything.