When they stepped back into the living room, it felt quieter than before.
Not because the room had changed, not really, the mana lights still hummed with that steady, constant presence, and the low table still held the remnants of their earlier victory in the form of half-finished books and abandoned accessories, but because the people had thinned out.
The noise that had been filling the space, the kind that made everything feel busy and safe by sheer volume, had left with Lev, Felix, Louise, Olivia, and Alex.
What remained was softer.
Smaller.
More noticeable.
Soren let out an easy exhale as he dropped back onto the sofa, shoulders sinking into the cushion like his body had been waiting for permission to relax.
The warmth from dessert sat comfortably in his stomach, and the day felt… finished, in the best way.
Amelia moved over immediately on his right, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm before she even settled.
It wasn't aggressive, and it wasn't calculated.
Amelia didn't really do subtle plans when it came to physical distance; she just moved toward what she wanted, and what she wanted was always the same.
Beside him.
Lilliana sat on his left.
That wasn't unusual either; she had always sat near him, always hovered in the orbit of his space without making it feel intrusive.
This time, though, she sat a little closer than normal, close enough that their legs touched, the contact light and steady, and something in the way she held herself suggested she had chosen it on purpose and decided not to acknowledge it.
Soren didn't think about it too hard.
He shifted slightly so he wasn't pressing into her, then leaned back again, letting his weight settle into the sofa as if he was claiming the right to be comfortable.
Lilliana reopened her book and started reading as if nothing had happened.
Amelia let out a quiet little sigh and rested her head against his shoulder, eyes closing as if the entire day had finally caught up to her all at once.
Her body went heavy in that comfortable way she only allowed when she felt safe.
Soren stared ahead for a while, letting the warmth settle.
His mood stayed high.
It wasn't forced, and it wasn't fragile.
He didn't feel like he was balancing something sharp on his palm, waiting for the smallest movement to cut him.
He just… felt comfortable.
The club had finally done something normal.
Their hands smelled faintly like sugar and chocolate instead of blood or steel.
The room was quiet in a way that didn't threaten him, and there were two people beside him that made the space feel like home, even when everything outside it wanted to be loud.
Time drifted.
The mana lights stayed constant, but the window didn't.
The sky beyond the glass darkened slowly, the last pale colour fading into deeper blue.
The moon rose at an unhurried pace, pale and clean, and a thin strip of light slid across the rug and floorboards like it was tracing the room for exits.
A page turned.
Soren heard it, soft and crisp, and then another a few minutes later, the sound briefly louder in the silence before it vanished again.
Amelia's breathing shifted too, slowing and deepening until it became a steady rhythm against his shoulder, the last tension draining out of her posture.
A few minutes after that, her weight settled properly, and the hand that had been loosely holding the edge of his sleeve relaxed until it slipped away.
Soren glanced down.
Amelia had fallen asleep.
The sight tugged at something quiet in his chest, and his mouth threatened to curve into a smile before he even allowed it.
Her face looked different when she slept, not softer in a dramatic way, just… less guarded, as if her body stopped holding onto its pride.
His hand lifted naturally and came to rest on her head.
Fingers brushed through her hair in a slow rhythm, not because he was trying to make a statement, not because he was thinking about it as anything special, but because it was calming.
Even asleep, her expression smoothed, the neutral mask she carried most of the time easing as if his hand gave her permission to rest properly.
Soren's smile warmed.
Then a sharp sound snapped through the room.
Lilliana shut her book.
The noise cut through the quiet with surprising force, and Soren's hand slowed mid-stroke before coming to a stop.
He turned his head toward her.
Lilliana's expression was controlled, but there was a strange tightness in her eyes, like she was trying to keep her voice from tipping into something she didn't want to admit to.
"Why do you keep doing that?" she asked.
Soren blinked once, then glanced at his hand on Amelia's hair as if she had pointed out something he hadn't noticed himself.
"Because it's nice," he said simply.
He didn't see a reason to dress it up.
"It's kind of addicting, honestly."
Lilliana's eyebrow lifted, and the movement was so small it could've been disbelief or irritation.
Soren continued in the same calm tone, as if it was obvious and the room hadn't suddenly changed shape.
"And her reaction is cute. She rarely smiles, but the moment I do this—look at her."
His gaze dropped briefly to Amelia's sleeping face, the softness still there, then returned to Lilliana.
Lilliana stared at him for a long moment, unimpressed in a way that didn't match the warmth of the room.
A quiet stretch of silence settled between them.
Soren wasn't bothered by it.
Silence didn't scare him; he had learned long ago that silence could be safe too, as long as it wasn't sharpened into avoidance.
He was about to go back to stroking Amelia's hair, because there was no reason not to, when Lilliana spoke again.
It was so quiet he almost missed it.
"…You can do it to me too."
Soren paused.
"What?"
The question came out flat with genuine uncertainty, not teasing, not a trap, because his brain hadn't been prepared for that sentence.
Lilliana's cheeks flushed immediately.
She looked away for half a second like she regretted speaking at all, then forced herself to meet his eyes again, stubborn enough to commit to the embarrassment once it existed.
"I said you can do it to me too," she repeated, voice steadier now, though her ears betrayed her by twitching at the end of the sentence.
The corners of Soren's mouth lifted.
The surprise faded, replaced by a gentler amusement, the kind that made him seem completely unthreatened by the moment, which somehow made it worse for her.
"You're sure?" he asked, tone careful. "I'm not going to do it if you're just saying it."
Lilliana nodded once, small and stiff, like she was signing a contract she couldn't take back.
Soren shifted slowly, moving with the caution you used around something fragile.
He lowered his left hand from Amelia's head and raised his right toward Lilliana instead, giving her time to change her mind if she wanted, giving her space to pull away without making it a whole thing.
He didn't go straight for her ears.
He started with her hair.
Fingers brushed through it lightly, almost testing, learning the texture and the way it moved.
It was soft, much softer than he expected, and it carried that faint, familiar scent of fruit and warmth that always clung to her as if she had stepped out of a clean kitchen.
Lilliana's breath caught, shoulders tensing.
Soren stopped immediately.
"Too much?"
Lilliana shook her head quickly, then looked annoyed at herself for reacting so obviously, her jaw tightening as if she could bully her own body back into composure.
Soren's smile deepened, not teasing, just fond.
"Alright. I'll be gentle."
His fingers moved again, slower.
He traced along the outside of her ear with careful pressure, avoiding the inner edge.
Beastkin ears were sensitive in a way humans didn't have to think about, and Soren had no interest in being careless with her, not when she had asked for this while clearly fighting her own embarrassment.
Lilliana held her breath again as his fingertips slid along the base of her ear.
It didn't last.
A few seconds later, she exhaled shakily, and the sound that escaped her was humiliatingly soft, the kind that slipped out before pride could clamp down.
Her cheeks burned red, and her eyes half-lidded despite her obvious determination to stay composed.
Soren kept his voice low and calm.
"Is that alright?"
Lilliana nodded, but it was weaker this time, like even movement was dangerous now, like she couldn't afford to do anything that might make her lose control further.
Soren continued, repeating the same slow, careful motion.
The effect was immediate.
Lilliana's breathing started to fall apart, each inhale turning shallow until she finally gave up and let it become quiet panting, her shoulders lifting slightly with each breath, her fingers gripping the edge of her book as if it could anchor her to reality.
Soren watched her for a moment, then spoke with simple honesty, because his brain didn't know how to keep compliments locked behind a door.
"Your hair's really soft."
Lilliana's eyes widened slightly, and the flush spread down her neck.
Soren didn't seem to notice the impact.
He just continued, fingertips slipping through her hair again before returning to her ear, rhythm steady and deliberate, the same consistency he used when he didn't want to startle Amelia.
Lilliana's lips parted.
Her breath hitched, and she tried to hold it again like stubbornness could fix this.
It didn't.
A tiny drop of drool slipped from the corner of her mouth.
Soren paused.
His mouth twitched, then a quiet chuckle escaped him before he could stop it.
Lilliana realised instantly.
Her eyes snapped open wider, and she wiped her mouth so fast it was practically violent, cheeks blazing with mortified heat.
The glare she shot him would've been threatening if she didn't look half-drunk on warmth.
"That's enough," she hissed.
Soren lifted his hand immediately, still smiling.
"Alright."
Lilliana stayed rigid for a few seconds, as if she needed to rebuild her dignity brick by brick.
Then, like her body couldn't keep fighting forever, her shoulders loosened, breath finally settling into something resembling normal.
Soren glanced at her and said it plainly, a simple conclusion, not even trying to be subtle.
"You're adorable."
Lilliana looked like she wanted to throw her book at him.
Soren didn't flinch, and he didn't backpedal.
He just sat there with the same easy expression, as if he had stated a harmless fact.
The silence that followed felt different.
Not tense, just thick with warmth, the kind that made small sounds stand out.
The hum of mana lights.
The faint creak of the sofa when someone shifted too slowly.
Amelia's steady sleeping rhythm on Soren's right.
Lilliana sat on his left with her cheeks still pink, gaze fixed stubbornly forward like she could win a battle by refusing to acknowledge she had just lost it.
Soren didn't press her.
He didn't tease her again.
He simply leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the sofa, and let the moment settle naturally.
Lilliana cleared her throat once, quietly, like the sound could erase the last ten minutes.
Then, after another stretch of silence, she spoke without looking at him.
"…Shouldn't we move Amelia to a bedroom?"
Soren's eyes flicked down to Amelia.
She was slumped against him, face relaxed in a way she almost never showed when awake, her hair slightly messy from earlier, and her posture had that stubborn heaviness that suggested she would be difficult if woken the wrong way.
"Why?" he asked, calm, like it was a genuine question.
Lilliana's ears twitched, and her voice sharpened just a little, trying to hide the fact she was still flustered.
"Wouldn't it be uncomfortable for her to sleep on the sofa all night? Not everyone's like you."
Soren's mouth quirked.
"That's fair."
He shifted carefully, sliding his arm from behind Amelia's shoulders and adjusting his posture so he could stand without jostling her too much.
Amelia stirred immediately, brows knitting like the world had committed an offence by moving.
Soren leaned down slightly, voice low.
"Amelia."
A soft sound left her throat, halfway between a grunt and a complaint.
Her eyes cracked open for barely a second.
"Go to bed," Soren said simply.
Amelia blinked at him like she was deciding whether to argue.
Then, with the deepest betrayal a person could show, she mumbled, "Mm," and let her eyes close again as if she had done her part and the rest was now his problem.
Soren exhaled through his nose, amused, then slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back.
Amelia didn't wake up properly, but her arms looped around his neck on instinct, clinging as if her body refused to accept separation even in sleep.
Soren glanced toward Lilliana.
"Which room is clean?"
Lilliana stood up immediately, too fast, as if she needed somewhere to put her energy.
"Second door on the left. I did the sheets earlier."
Soren carried Amelia down the hallway with steady steps.
The clubroom was quiet enough that even the smallest sounds felt loud: the soft rustle of fabric, Amelia's slow breathing, the faint click of his footfalls.
He laid her down gently.
Amelia shifted once and turned onto her side, face pressing into the pillow like it was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
One hand reached out blindly, caught his sleeve for a second, then loosened as her body settled deeper.
Soren pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, tucking it in without thinking too hard about it.
Her expression softened by a fraction more.
"Goodnight," he murmured, mostly for his own satisfaction.
Then he left the room and shut the door quietly behind him.
When he returned to the living room, Lilliana was already back on the sofa, book reopened in her lap as if she had been reading this entire time and nothing humiliating had happened.
Her posture was composed again.
Her ears were… trying.
Soren sat down in the space he had left behind, and the room fell into that late-night calm once more, the kind that made you feel like the world outside had paused.
For a minute or two, Lilliana actually read.
Soren could hear the faint scrape of a page as she adjusted her grip, but her eyes didn't seem to track properly.
He didn't comment on it.
He just leaned back and let the warmth in his chest stay where it was.
After a while, Lilliana shut the book again, slower this time, and set it on the table with controlled care.
"…If you keep spoiling her, she's going to end up useless," she said, voice quiet.
Soren glanced toward the hallway where Amelia was sleeping, then back at Lilliana.
"Maybe," he replied, unbothered. "She seems fine with that outcome, though."
Lilliana huffed once, not quite a laugh and not quite a complaint, the sound softer than she probably intended.
Soren's gaze drifted to the window.
The moon was higher now, pale light stretching across the floor in a long stripe.
The clubroom felt sealed off from the rest of the academy, as if they had stepped outside of time for a few hours and nobody had noticed.
Lilliana shifted slightly, and the movement was small but deliberate.
Her leg brushed his again, closer than earlier.
She didn't pull away.
Soren adjusted his shoulder so she had more space without breaking the contact.
Neither of them said anything about it.
Minutes passed.
Lilliana's breathing slowed.
Her posture softened in tiny increments, tension bleeding away as her body finally gave up on maintaining composure now that the day was over.
Her head dipped once, then lifted again.
A few minutes later it dipped a second time, and this time it didn't fully recover.
Soren stayed still, letting her find her own balance.
When her head finally came to rest against his shoulder, it was light at first, tentative, as if she might change her mind.
She didn't.
Her weight settled properly, and her eyes slid closed.
Soren glanced down at her face.
The flush had faded, but her expression still looked faintly stubborn even in sleep, like her pride hadn't been informed.
His mouth curved into a quiet smile.
He leaned back into the sofa, careful not to disturb her, and let his eyes close too.
The clubroom stayed warm and quiet, lit by mana lights and moonlight, and for a long while, nothing existed outside of it.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
She hated herself for it.
She had sat there all evening with her book open, pretending to read while her attention kept slipping, again and again, to Soren's hand in Amelia's hair.
It wasn't romantic.
It didn't mean anything.
Amelia just leaned on him the way she always did, and Soren responded the way he always did, like touch was just another language he spoke without thinking.
That was the problem.
It looked effortless.
It looked normal.
Lilliana had told herself she would wait.
She meant it, too.
Soren had only just started breathing properly again, only just started moving through the world like he wasn't carrying a weight that could crush him if he let it slip.
She didn't want to be another pressure on him, another expectation he had to manage, another voice asking for more when he had already been giving too much for too long.
So she swallowed it.
All of it.
Even when it made her chest feel tight in a way she didn't like admitting.
Even when jealousy rose in her before she could stop it, ugly and childish and humiliating, because she wasn't supposed to be like that.
She was supposed to be steady.
She was supposed to be better.
The worst part was that nobody was doing anything wrong.
Amelia didn't look at Lilliana like a rival.
Amelia didn't even think in those terms most of the time.
She just gravitated toward Soren, always had, always would, and when she claimed space beside him she did it with the blunt certainty of someone who didn't understand why there should be a reason not to.
Soren didn't hesitate either.
He didn't pause to consider how it looked.
His hand simply moved, calm and familiar, because it soothed Amelia, because it made her settle, because he liked seeing her relax.
There was no malice in it.
There was no choice being made.
That should have made it easier.
Instead, it made it feel worse, because Lilliana couldn't even justify being angry.
There was nothing to point at and call unfair except the simple truth that Amelia had access to something Lilliana wanted, and Amelia didn't even have to ask.
Lilliana had promised herself she would wait.
She clung to that promise because it made her feel in control, because it made her feel like she was doing something right, like she was proving she could be patient and kind and mature.
She didn't want to be another complication when Soren had only just begun to feel… lighter.
And then, in the kitchen earlier, he had looked at her and asked if she was alright.
He had sounded so normal about it.
Not worried.
Not fragile.
Not bracing for impact.
Just Soren.
Clueless and gentle, trying to cheer her up in that straightforward way he had, completely unaware of the mess she kept tucked behind her ribs.
The fact he didn't understand made it better, because it meant he wasn't choosing Amelia over her.
It also made it worse, because if he didn't understand, then he couldn't fix it, and the only person left to blame was…
Herself.
Even now, heat crawled up her neck when the memory surfaced again, vivid and humiliating in its clarity.
The moment she had asked.
The moment his hand had reached toward her.
The way her body had betrayed her faster than her pride could react, breath catching, shoulders tensing, then crumbling into something soft and helpless when his fingers brushed her ear.
She had wanted to sink into the floor.
She had wanted to never speak again.
And then he had said it, simply and casually, like it was a fact that didn't need to be defended.
— You're adorable.
He hadn't looked embarrassed.
He hadn't taken it back.
He hadn't hurried to soften it into something less direct.
He had just said it.
As if he didn't understand what that did to her.
Lilliana's head rested against his shoulder now, and the warmth of him seeped through the fabric, steady and real.
She could hear the slow rhythm of his breathing, could feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest, and it grounded her in a way she hated needing.
Jealousy didn't vanish.
It still existed, lodged like a thorn she couldn't dig out without making herself bleed.
But it dulled, just slightly, because Soren was here, steady and safe, and she could tell he wasn't trying to hurt her.
He just didn't know.
One day… he would.
But not yet.
She would wait.
She had promised herself she would, and she tightened her grip on that promise for a moment, as if holding it harder could make it easier.
Then exhaustion and warmth dragged her under, and she fell asleep before she could think any further.
————「❤︎」————