RIVEN
Riven's hand clutched Musa's for comfort.
His eyes were now open but he wasnt fully awake.
His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, sweat chilling his skin. The echo of that sinister laughter still clawed at the edges of his mind, dragging him halfway between dream and waking. His breath came out ragged, eyes wide, as if the nightmare hadn't quite let him go.
Then—
Another hand, softer, warmer, cupped his cheek.
"Riven," came Musa's voice — gentle, steady, and impossibly real.
His head jerked toward her, startled. Her face came into focus through the haze of panic — her dark eyes full of worry, her voice pulling him back from whatever pit his mind had fallen into.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. Her tone trembled with concern.His grip probably hurt her hand but she didn't flinch.
He blinked, disoriented, before finally letting go. His fingers trembled as he pulled his hand back, dragging it across his face like he could wipe the nightmare away.
"Musa…" His voice was rough, hoarse. "What happened? What are you doing here?"
"You were having a nightmare," she explained softly. "You were thrashing around and muttering things I couldn't understand. I tried waking you up."
Riven exhaled slowly, his muscles still taut with tension. The dream was already fading, but the images clung to him — a black void swallowing everything, Musa's voice fading into nothing, Sky's accusing stare. His throat tightened.
So it had all just been a dream.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his face with both hands. "Yeah," he muttered. "Guess I was."
Musa tilted her head, studying him. "You okay?" she asked again, quieter this time.
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Just… side effects from being in this creepy place, I guess. And maybe those illusions from earlier. Messed with my head more than I thought."
Her frown deepened. "You sure it's just that?"
"Pretty sure," he lied easily. It was close enough to the truth anyway.
Silence followed. Not the heavy, angry kind — but something charged and uncertain. The faint torchlight painted the room in gold and shadow. Musa's eyes lingered on him longer than she meant to. There was something in his posture — the tension in his shoulders, the faint tremor in his hand — that made her heart ache. He looked… fragile, in a way Riven never let anyone see.
It scared her more than she wanted to admit.
"I can stay with you," she blurted suddenly. "If you're not okay, I mean. Just in case it happens again."
Her voice was cautious, but sincere.
The words hung there between them — raw and unguarded. Musa froze a second later, realizing what she'd just said.
Riven's expression flickered. The thought of her staying close — the same closeness he'd dreamed of — sent a ripple of unease through him. His mind flashed back to that twisted illusion,what had happened after they got close:Bad thing, Musa disappearing into the dark while he stood helpless.
"No," he said too quickly, too sharp. Then, seeing her startled look, he softened his tone. "I mean… you were right earlier. Us being close isn't the best idea."
"Yeah, I know I said that," Musa murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I just thought maybe—"
"I'm not a kid, Musa," he cut in, defensive before she could finish. "I don't need help sleeping."
The words came out harsher than he intended. And the instant they did, regret hit him like a punch to the gut.
Musa flinched, just slightly. Her eyes fell to the floor. "Right," she said quietly. "Of course not."
"Musa…" His voice cracked, heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just—" He exhaled shakily. "I'm just tired."
"Sure," she said softly.
And that was it. She turned away before he could say anything else, retreating to the couch. She pulled the blanket tightly around herself, her back to him.
The hurt in her voice lingered long after silence reclaimed the room.
Riven sat there, jaw tight, hands clasped between his knees. He hated himself for the way she'd looked at him ,hurt—and like he'd just confirmed her worst fears about him.
He raked a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, "I'm such an idiot."
Across the room, Musa lay still, her eyes closed even though sleep refused to come. She told herself it didn't matter — that she'd stopped caring about Riven's moods a long time ago. But the lie felt heavy in her chest, pressing down until she could barely breathe.
Neither of them slept easily that night. The torchlight flickered across the walls, throwing restless shadows that danced until exhaustion finally claimed them both.
******
When the first light crept through the cracks in the stone wall, it found Riven already awake.
His body ached from his wounds, but guilt was what truly stirred him. He sat up quietly, glancing across the room. Musa was still asleep, curled up under the blanket. Strands of hair fell across her face, rising and falling with her calm breathing.
She looked peaceful. Too peaceful.
And he knew he didn't deserve it.
"I've got to make this right," he muttered.
His gaze drifted to the small stove in the corner — a leftover from whoever had used this hideout before. An idea began to take shape.
He'd make breakfast for her.
A peace offering.
A way to say "I'm sorry" without fumbling the words.
It sounded brilliant in his head.Though as reality would have it,he didnt know to cook.
"How hard could it be?" he whispered, rolling up his sleeves.
Five minutes later, the answer was: very.
The food stuck to the pan. He burned his sleeve, sliced his finger, and dropped two pans in a row. Smoke began to rise from one of the pots like a vengeful spirit.
Riven cursed under his breath, waving a towel uselessly to clear the haze.
That was when Musa jolted awake.
"What—what's going on?" she gasped, blinking against the smoke. Her eyes widened when she saw him. "Riven!"
"What are you doing?"
He froze, spatula in hand, looking guilty as a kid caught raiding the fridge. "Uh… making breakfast?"
She gave him a look before getting up and rushing over to him.
"You mean making a disaster! Are you trying to burn down the only safe place we've got?"
He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "You're exaggerating. It's just a little… smoke."
"A little?" She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face.
He winced before deciding to focus her attention on other things. "On the bright side, I think the food's ready."
Musa turned toward the pan. Her expression said it all.
"Food?" she repeated flatly. "That's not food, that's charcoal."
Riven sighed in defeat. "Okay, fine. I messed up." He hesitated, his voice softening. "I just…I wanted to make it up to you. For last night."
Musa blinked, thrown off. "What?"
"For being a jerk," he said, quieter this time. "You didn't deserve that."
Something inside her melted. She hadn't expected an apology — not from him, and definitely not like this. Her lips parted in surprise as she looked at him — the same stubborn Riven now standing amid chaos, a burnt spatula in hand, trying to make amends.
"You did all this… for me?" she asked gently.
He shrugged, embarrassed. "Didn't exactly go as planned."
Musa bit her lip to hide a laugh. The warmth in her chest caught her off guard. "Riven, you're impossible."
"Yeah," he said with a small grin. "I've heard that one before."
She shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Sit down. I'll clean this up and make breakfast properly."
"You don't have to—"
"I do," she cut in firmly. "You're still injured. Let me handle it."
He hesitated, then glanced up at her, hopeful. "So… you forgive me?"
Musa looked at him for a long moment. Then finally, she sighed. "Of course I do, you jerk."
Riven's grin widened — the genuine kind she rarely saw. "Thanks, Musa."
She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the color rising to her cheeks. "You're welcome. Now sit. Before you break something else."
Riven raised his hands in mock surrender and obeyed, settling onto the chair with caution.They may not be able to be together but he didnt want to be on her bad side either.