The air was thick with silence, but it wasn't the quiet of peace. No, this was the kind of silence that weighed heavy on the chest, filled with all the unspoken words, the confusion, and the tangled emotions neither of them could put into neat little boxes. Sea lay on the desk, her body still trembling slightly, the aftershocks of their connection rippling through her. Bright, too, was still close, his presence a steady weight beside her, but something had shifted. It was like the calm after a storm, when the dust settles but nothing is quite the same anymore.
Sea couldn't bring herself to speak. Her mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, none of which made any sense. One moment, she had been so sure of her resolve to keep her distance, to never fall into his trap. But now, after everything, she wasn't sure who she was anymore. Her body was still warm from his touch, her skin still tingling where he had been. It felt like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Either way, she couldn't wake up from it.
Bright was the first to break the silence, his voice low and steady, as always, though there was something in it now that made Sea shiver. It wasn't the calm that had been there before. It was different. "Are you okay?" he asked, his fingers lightly tracing her arm.
Sea nodded, but it was a lie. She wasn't okay. She wasn't sure what she was. A part of her wanted to cry, to scream at him for messing with her mind, for making her feel things she didn't want to feel. But another part of her—a part that terrified her—didn't want to move away. She didn't want this to end. She didn't want to leave his arms, even though she knew that everything about this was wrong.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice hoarse from emotion. "Just... confused."
Bright didn't respond at first. He just watched her with that calculating gaze of his, like he could see right through her, see every thought, every fear that ran through her mind. His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, the touch gentle, as if he were trying to comfort her.
"You don't have to be confused," he said after a moment. "You knew what you were doing when you came here."
It wasn't an accusation. It was a statement of fact. And in that moment, Sea wanted to argue, to say that no, she hadn't known. But the truth was, she had. She knew exactly what she was doing. She had known when she walked into the room, when she had kissed him, when she had let herself fall into this.
"I didn't think it would be like this," she muttered, the words escaping her before she could stop them. She wasn't even sure what she meant. Didn't think it would be *what*? Didn't think it would be so intense? So... real?
Bright didn't push her. Instead, he sat up and pulled her into his arms, holding her against him with a tenderness that didn't quite match the storm they had just weathered. "It never is," he said quietly, his voice softer than before, almost thoughtful. "But that's the thing about us, Sea. You can't control everything."
She stiffened in his arms, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt. How vulnerable. "You think I want to lose control?" she asked, her voice sharp.
"I think you've already lost it," Bright said, his words calm but pointed. "I think you're scared of it, but you've already let go. And I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't matter, because it does. It means something."
Sea couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His words rang through her like a bell, each one louder than the last, until they drowned out all her other thoughts. He was right, but she wasn't ready to admit it—not to him, not to herself. Not yet.
She pulled away from him slowly, needing space, needing time to process everything. To understand why she had done what she had done.
Bright didn't stop her, but his eyes never left her face. She could feel his gaze on her, like he was waiting for something—for her to crumble, for her to admit defeat, for her to fall into him the way she had fallen earlier. But Sea wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
She stood up, her legs shaky beneath her, and grabbed her clothes from the floor. She dressed quickly, almost mechanically, avoiding Bright's gaze. Every movement felt like it took more effort than it should have, but she couldn't slow down. Not now. Not when everything felt so wrong and so right at the same time.
"Sea," Bright's voice was low, but it carried the weight of everything he wanted to say. He reached for her, but she took a step back, shaking her head.
"No," she whispered. "I can't do this. Not right now."
He didn't argue. He just nodded, as if he understood, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something unreadable, something that made Sea feel like she had just taken a step into deeper waters. He wasn't going to let this slide. He wasn't going to let her walk away without acknowledging it.
"I'm not going to chase you, Sea," he said, his tone steady but final. "But I'm not going to pretend that this didn't happen. That *we* didn't happen. You've got 365 days. But I'm telling you now, I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you."
Sea's breath caught in her throat, and she froze in place. Those words. The same ones he had spoken when she had first arrived—the same ones that had started this whole twisted game. And yet, now they felt different. They weren't a threat anymore. They weren't part of his plan. They were a promise.
A promise she didn't know how to deal with.
Without saying another word, she turned and walked toward the door, her chest tight with emotion. She couldn't stay here. Not like this. Not when everything was still so raw, so new.
But as she reached the door, she heard his voice one last time, low and steady, like it had always been.
"I'll be here, Sea. When you're ready."
And for the first time since that night began, Sea didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to feel. All she knew was that she couldn't ignore him. Not anymore.