The morning light slipped quietly through the curtains, brushing against the edges of the room.
Thalia stirred on the couch, the faint ache in her back reminding her she'd fallen asleep there again. When she sat up, she saw Vicious already awake, seated on the edge of the bed, his shirt half-buttoned and his gaze fixed on the floor.
He looked distant with his own thoughts.
"Good morning," she said softly.
He looked up, just briefly. "Morning."
The word hung between them, plain and guarded.
"You're up early," she tried again, keeping her tone light.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Too much on your mind?"
He paused. "Something like that."
Thalia nodded slowly. There were a hundred things she wanted to say but none that felt right. So instead, she said quietly, "You don't always have to pretend everything's fine, you know."
He turned his head, meeting her eyes for a heartbeat. "You shouldn't concern yourself with that."
Her lips curved in a faint, hurt smile. "You always push people away when they try to understand you."
"And you always try to understand things that don't need explaining," he replied, his voice calm but cold.
The silence that followed was heavy. Thalia looked away. "Right." She picked up her bag and camera. "Well, I'll be out taking photos today. Don't worry I won't get in your way."
He said nothing. Just watched her as she put on her jacket and headed for the door.
When it closed behind her, the quiet returned heavier this time.
Hours passed. Vicious tried to drown himself in work, but his focus wouldn't hold. Her voice echoed in the back of his mind.
You always push people away.
He loosened his tie and leaned back in his chair. Something about her words stung not because she was wrong, but because she was right.
He returned to the hotel that evening, the room felt strangely still. The couch where she usually sat was empty, her camera bag missing. The faint trace of her scent still lingered in the air.
He sank into the same spot she often occupied
"She'll be back," he murmured under his breath. "She always comes back."
But his tone wasn't confident — it was quiet, uncertain.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling something unfamiliar stirring in his chest. Not affection. Not yet. Just a restless pull he couldn't name the kind that made silence feel too loud and solitude too heavy.
Meanwhile, Thalia was by the riverside, camera in hand, capturing the fading light. She wasn't thinking about him not exactly. But every now and then, his voice, his expression, the chill in his tone replayed in her head.
She frowned. "Why does he have to be so complicated?" she muttered to herself.
Then she shook her head and lifted her camera again, choosing instead to focus on the sunset
By the time Thalia returned, it was almost midnight. The hallway lights flickered faintly as she unlocked the door and stepped into the room.
It was dim inside — the only light coming from the small lamp beside the bed.
Her eyes softened when she saw him.
Vicious had fallen asleep on the couch. His jacket lay carelessly over the armrest, his phone still glowing faintly beside him. One hand rested against his forehead, his brows slightly furrowed even in sleep, as if he couldn't stop thinking, even in his dreams.
Thalia hesitated. For a moment, she simply stood there, watching him. It felt strange seeing the man who always looked untouchable now look human.
She placed her camera gently on the table and tiptoed closer.
There was a glass of water by the couch, untouched. His laptop sat open with an unfinished document blinking on the screen. She smiled faintly. "Couldn't sleep, huh?" she whispered under her breath.
She grabbed the blanket from the bed, hesitated again, then slowly draped it over him.
As she did, he stirred.
"Thalia…" His voice came out low, barely audible, still tangled in half-sleep.
She froze. "You're awake?"
His eyes blinked open slightly. "You came back," he muttered.
"Of course," she said quietly. "It's late."
He looked at her for a long second, the exhaustion in his gaze softening into something else. "You shouldn't walk alone at night."
Thalia raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care?"
He exhaled slowly, looking away. "Forget it."
She shook her head and turned toward the bed. "Goodnight, Vicious."
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, just before she lay down, he said almost too softly
"Goodnight."
The next morning, the air between them felt different. Not warmer. Not colder. Just… quieter.
They didn't speak much, but something about their silence had changed — less like distance, more like understanding.
When she left for her morning walk around the city, he watched her from the window for a while before returning .His thoughts weren't scattered as before.