A fraction of amusement tugs at me. My shadows twitch; even they are laughing with him.
I’ve never let anyone linger here. Never invited someone to pick through the carefully curated remnants of my life. These thingsaren’t just decorations; they’re pieces of time I kept when so much else slipped away. I thought it was nostalgia. But watching Levi taking in the edges of my history like it’s something sacred, I realize it’s more than that. He’s breathing life into things I’d grown numb to.
Levi picks up a delicate silver ring, simple but elegant. “This one’s not cursed, is it?” he asks, giving me a sideways glance.
“No,” I reply, softly this time. “That belonged to someone I loved. A long time ago.”
The air shifts, the playful energy settling into something more fragile. Levi looks at me too long, like he’s mapping every version of me onto the man before him. Like he wants to know each one of them.
“You’ve lived so many lives,” he says, the ring cradled in his palm like he’s realizing it all over again.
I nod.
“And yet, you’re here.” He places the ring down like it’s still sacred, like it deserves reverence, even now.
I don’t have an answer for that. But maybe I don’t need one. He settles beside me, our legs pressed together, but this time it feels different. Like we’re tethered, and if I moved even an inch, I’d notice the absence of him. Oddly, this moment feels more valuable than any artifact on that shelf.
Maybe that’s why I’ve kept them.
Not to remember who I was.
But to remind myself why I’m here.
• • •
I don’t realizehow much time has passed until the first soft wash of pale light seeps through the slats of my blinds, casting faint streaks across the floor. My shadows that had nestledcomfortably in the corners all night begin to retreat, replaced by the hesitant blush of dawn.
Levi is still beside me, his face turned toward mine with that same easy expression he’s worn all night. Like talking to me isn’tjusttalking.
And for me, it feels extraordinary.
Seby is stretched luxuriously across his lap, purring like a machine every time Levi absently runs a hand down his back. Our empty glasses sit on the coffee table, and the bowl of popcorn we never finished is sandwiched between us. At some point, we stopped pretending this wasn’t something more. Our legs are tangled, the line between accidental and intentional having blurred somewhere between midnight and now.
I glance at the clock.
Six twenty-threeA.M.
Levi follows my gaze, and lets out a slow yawn, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’ve been talking all night.” His voice is a little rough and it settles into my skin like it’s always belonged there.
I nod, though it feels like an understatement. It wasn’t just talking. It was unraveling. Unfurling. Piece by fragile piece.
And it wasn’t exhausting. The opposite, in fact. It was…easy. Like exhaling after holding a breath in for too long.
Levi stretches, his arm brushing against mine. His sweater has shifted on his shoulder, revealing a stretch of freckled skin that makes my thoughts scatter.
“I should go,” he whispers, though he’s still wrapped in the quiet hush of the room like he’s waiting for an excuse to stay.
“Probably,” I reply, equally motionless.
We sit there, suspended in that strange space between night and day, between what we were before and whatever this is now.
Levi’s fingers toy with the hem of his sleeve, and then like itcosts him nothing, he reaches out, his hand settling gently over mine. His thumb brushes across my knuckles, a simple, steady motion that sends my heart into a quiet frenzy. Seby stretches before hopping off the couch in search of a quieter corner, giving us a deeply unimpressed look.
“Hayden, I…” he says, his voice still rough. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The words hit harder than they should. Because that’s the thing about immortality, isn’t it? People always leave. But Levi says it like a promise, as certain as the sun climbing higher outside my window each morning. I manage a nod, my throat tight.
He shifts slightly and presses a soft, prolonged kiss to my cheek.
