Chapter 25 Liam
LIAM
The courtyard feels different at dusk, emptier, almost hollow, as though the stones themselves are bracing for whatever comes next.
Mist winds across the ground, soft and cool against my ankles, drifting toward the Reflecting Pools where Harper and I stood weeks ago, waiting to be judged.
Now the water is dark and still, runes pulsing faintly beneath its surface like a heartbeat under skin.
I’m not sure why I came here tonight; something in me simply moved, restless and tangled, and my feet followed.
Theo stands at the far edge of the pool, hands loosely folded, his wand resting against his thigh.
His posture is alert despite the stillness, head tilted slightly as he listens to the world instead of watching it.
He turns toward me the second I step onto the stone, not by sight but by sound, by the shift of air or the scrape of my heel. He always knows.
“Didn’t expect anyone else to be out,” he says, voice quiet enough that it folds into the mist rather than breaking it.
I move next to him, leaving enough space to breathe but not enough to feel distant. “Could say the same for you,” I murmur, letting my eyes drift over the water. Its surface catches faint glimmers of gold from the lanterns behind us, making the runes flicker like embers.
For a while, neither of us speaks. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it is heavy, full of things I haven’t said and things he seems to already understand.
Ever since the alley, ever since Ares appeared and everything spiraled, my thoughts have been a knotted mess.
Worry for Harper sits in my chest like a stone, but it’s not the only thing weighing there.
Something shifted between Theo and me that day…
or maybe it shifted long before that and I’ve only just allowed myself to see it.
Theo breathes in slowly, like he’s tasting the air between us, measuring the atmosphere I didn’t realize I was bleeding into. “You’re tense,” he murmurs, voice quiet but sure. “And not in the way you usually are.”
I try to brush it off, offer some half-formed excuse, but the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “Everything’s been a lot,” I say instead, though even I can hear how hollow it sounds.
“That’s not what I meant.”
His voice softens, not with pity, but something deeper. The ache of someone who’s been watching me even without his sight.
“You’ve been… distant.”
He doesn’t accuse me. Doesn’t push. He just says it, quiet and honest. And somehow that lands harder.
His hand lifts slightly from where it rests at his side, hesitating midair.
A breath passes between us before he dares to close the space.
His fingers brush against the inside of my forearm, a barely-there graze, the lightest stroke of skin on skin.
But it’s enough.
My pulse answers him instantly, pounding in my throat, my chest, my fingertips. The touch is nothing. Everything. A question. A confession neither of us has dared say aloud.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Theo whispers.
His tone stays even, patient in a way that drives me mad. He always gives me room to retreat. Always lets me pretend like I don’t want him the way I shouldn’t.
“I haven’t been,” I try, but the words break apart midair. They’re a flimsy veil and we both feel it tear.
He lets out a soft breath, half sigh, half knowing laugh. “Liam… I may be blind, but I’m hardly clueless.”
There’s something unbearably gentle in the way he says my name.
Like it means something. Like I mean something.
The faint tilt of his head tells me he’s watching me in his own way, listening to every shift in my breathing, tracking the tension in my stance.
He always sees me too well. Especially when I’m trying not to be seen at all.
The mist curls at our feet, a slow, creeping veil that thickens the space around us. The water of the reflecting pool pulses beneath the surface, runes lighting up like they’re responding to more than just magic. To feeling. To want.
“I reached for you the other night,” Theo continues, voice quieter now. More intimate. “You flinched. Like I burned you. And since then…” He swallows softly, his next words lower, rougher. “You haven’t touched me. Not even to guide me through the halls.”
I look away, jaw tight, but I can feel his gaze on me even in the dark. Even without eyes.
“I miss it.”
That breaks me more than anything.
Heat rises up my neck, unwelcome and traitorous, and still I can’t make it stop. I want to touch him. I want to pull him close and bury my face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. I want to breathe him in like I’m drowning and he’s the only thing tethering me to air.
But I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
“I didn’t want to make things… complicated,” I murmur, hating how raw I sound.
Theo’s expression doesn’t change, but the air between us tightens. It pulls.
“And why would it be complicated?” he asks. No challenge, no accusation. Just that quiet, devastating curiosity that always cuts through my defenses like nothing else.
He’s giving me another out. One more chance to lie. And gods help me, I almost take it.
But I don’t.
Because he deserves the truth, even if it wrecks me.
“You know why,” I whisper.
I don’t look at him. I can’t. Not when all I want is to press my lips to the edge of his jaw and whisper all the things I’ve never been brave enough to say.
Because he’s not mine to want.
And I’ve wanted him since the moment I realized I wasn’t supposed to.
His fingers brush mine again, intentional this time. Lingering. Not demanding, not forceful, just there. A whisper of contact that feels like a hand pressed to the center of my chest.
The invitation is silent, but clear.
My pulse reacts like it’s been struck. He feels it. Of course he does. His senses are sharper than mine in every way. He feels the way I flinch, not from fear, but from want. He knows what I’m holding back, what I’ve been choking down for weeks now.
Theo shifts closer.
Barely an inch. But it changes everything.
The air grows heavy between us. His body doesn’t even touch mine, but the heat radiating from him is overwhelming, like a secret pressed too close to the skin.
His head tilts slightly, and though his eyes don’t focus, his gaze lands on me with a precision that steals my breath.
I’ve never felt so seen by someone who can’t see.
“Liam,” he says softly, voice like velvet drawn tight over something trembling, “are you frightened of what this could be? Or are you frightened of letting someone look at you too closely?”
The question lands like a strike to the ribs.
It shouldn’t exist, not in our world. Not between two boys standing half in shadow, half in silence, in a place where magic runs deeper than bloodlines and expectations are suffocating. A question like that is dangerous. Blasphemous.
But Theo speaks it gently. Carefully. Like he’s the one who’s afraid he’s gone too far.
My chest tightens so sharply it hurts. Because I know what comes next. I know how this ends. This kind of closeness, this kind of truth, it never lasts. Not for us. Not for me. Something always tears it away.
Someone always does.
And I don’t know if I can survive it again.
He shifts closer.
Still not touching, still giving me that unbearable space to run, but I feel him now. His body radiates heat, so near I could tilt my head and fall into it him. My skin prickles with awareness. My lips part, unsteady, and I swear I can feel the press of his breath mingling with mine.
“Tell me,” Theo murmurs. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
I turn toward him fully, because I can’t do this halfway anymore. Not with him. His pale eyes catch a flicker of lantern light, turning soft and silver in the dark. They don’t focus on me, but they hold me. Like they always do.
The vulnerability digs claws into my spine.
“I’m not shutting you out,” I manage.“I’m trying to keep us both safe.”
His head tips again. A shadow of confusion crosses his face, laced with something sadder.
“Safe from what?” he whispers.
“From me.” The words fall before I can stop them. “From wanting something I don’t have the right to want.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then his hand lifts again, slower this time, brushed with hesitation. But he doesn’t stop.
His fingers find my jaw, light and warm. Not claiming. Just holding. His thumb strokes along the curve of my cheek, and I nearly fall apart beneath it. My entire body stills. My lungs forget how to breathe. My skin burns under his touch, but I lean into it anyway.
I can’t pull away.
“You have every right,” he says softly. Almost like it pains him to admit. “Even if neither of us knows what to call it.”
His hand lingers, and I tilt my head just enough to brush my lips, not into a kiss, not quite, but close enough that I can feel the shape of his breath. The temptation is unbearable. The hunger sharp. If I close the space, if I give in, there’s no going back.
But gods, I’m so fucking tired of pretending I don’t want him.
His touch stays where it is, fingers warm against my jaw, thumb tracing the faintest arc along my cheekbone like he’s learning the shape of me by heart.
The contact is gentle, reverent even, and somehow that makes it worse.
My body betrays me completely, pulse hammering loud and fast, skin too tight, breath shallow.
I don’t know when I started shaking, only that I can’t stop.
He isn’t pressing. He isn’t asking for more.
He’s just there, close enough that I can feel the heat of him bleeding into the cold night air, close enough that every inhale carries the scent of him.
His patience is unbearable. Theo has always been like this, letting me decide how close is too close, even when it’s obvious I’m already past it.