The building was too quiet. It made the city outside sound louder; the constant, distant drone of sirens and the rhythmic chop of helicopters cutting through the dark. Lucien lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and waiting for sleep that wouldn't come.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it. Not a flash of light, but an impression of something vast and ancient. Michael. The name had vibrated through his bones like a struck bell. He flexed his hand in the dark, watching a disciplined, orderly warmth stir beneath his skin. It didn't feel like a gift; it felt like an expectation. It felt like something that expected him to stand up and decide things.
He sat up, the bedsprings groaning. Across the room, Nox was a dark silhouette against the window, staring at the silver scar in the sky as if he were trying to read a map.
"You're doing the dramatic silhouette thing again," Lucien said, his voice raspy in the quiet.
Nox didn't turn. "I'm sitting."
Lucien got up anyway, his bare feet cold on the floor. "You're staring."
"So are you."
Lucien leaned a shoulder against the wall beside him. "Touché."
Outside, the scar looked sharper in the moonlight; an unfinished cut in the fabric of the world. Lucien kept his eyes on it, his brow furrowing. "I keep thinking I should feel stronger. Faster. Something."
"You're not stronger yet," Nox said.
Lucien blinked. "...That could've been phrased better."
A faint, almost-smile tugged at the corner of Nox's mouth. "I know."
"You're enjoying this."
"No."
"You absolutely are."
The warmth under Lucien's skin responded to his annoyance, a low-voltage hum that sat just beneath the surface. He looked down at his hands. "It's still there. It listens."
Nox's gaze rested on him for a beat too long. "Yes."
Lucien noticed that. He'd been noticing a lot of things about Nox lately; the way he counted people when he entered a room, the way his eyes moved before the world actually shifted.
"Something's off," Lucien said quietly.
"With the sky?"
"With you."
Nox went silent. Lucien didn't push—not tonight. Instead, he let the quiet settle between them before speaking again, his voice dropping an octave. "Sometimes I get these... flashes. Nothing clear. Just feelings, like I missed a conversation I was supposed to remember."
That made Nox look at him fully.
"Today, when that thing started listing names," Lucien continued, "for a second, it felt like I'd been standing there before. Different place. Same weight."
The warmth around Lucien's knuckles trembled.
"You don't need to force it," Nox said, his voice very quiet.
Lucien turned his head. "That sounded specific."
"It isn't."
Lucien held his gaze for a long moment, then broke the tension with a small, dry laugh. "You know, for someone who claims not to be hiding anything, you're incredibly suspicious."
"I never said I wasn't hiding anything."
Lucien stared. Then he barked out a laugh. "That is the worst answer you could've given me."
"It's honest."
"It's unhelpful."
Nox looked back at the sky, but the heavy atmosphere in the room had shifted. Lucien shook his head, a real smile touching his face. There he was—that dry, impossible version of Nox that only showed up in pieces.
"The thing is," Lucien said, his voice softening, "I don't actually need you to explain everything tonight. But I do need you to stop carrying all of this like the rest of us are made of paper."
A long pause followed. "I know what you can carry," Nox said, his voice low.
The answer hit harder than Lucien expected. Before he could dig into it, Nox looked away. Lucien moved a little closer, their shoulders brushing. "Then add one more thing to your calculations. I'm not going anywhere."
It wasn't a grand speech, but it was true. The warmth beneath Lucien's skin settled, matching the rhythm of his heart. He looked up at the scar one last time. "Fifteen days."
"Yes."
"Then we use all of them."
Lucien pushed off the wall and headed back to his bed. Halfway there, he stopped and looked back. "Nox."
"Yeah?"
"You know if you keep brooding in the dark like this, Mira's going to say it's romantic."
Nox just stared at him. Lucien's mouth curved into a smirk. "I'm warning you in advance."
For a second, Nox's expression softened completely. It was quick, but Lucien caught it.
"There," Lucien said.
"What?"
"That."
Nox looked back at the window, and Lucien lay back down, pulling the blanket up. The city was still loud and the future was still coming, but the room didn't feel as cold anymore. Lucien drifted toward sleep, certain of only one thing: he wasn't walking into the end alone.