Chapter 160 Chapter 160

Chapter 160 Chapter 160
Aurelia

For a second I just stared at him because… nobody else saw this. Nobody else got this version of Talon. The quieter one, the unguarded one, the one who stopped carrying everything for a little while, only me.

Talon

The changes happened gradually enough that I barely noticed them at first until Nico mentioned it. “You’re different around her," he said.
I looked up from my phone briefly. “In what way," I asked.

“You rest," he said That answer stayed with me longer than expected. Because he was right Most environments require awareness from me constantly: work, public settings, meetings Even social interactions There’s always structure underneath them: expectation, observation, and calculation.

Around Aurelia, that disappears not intentionally. It just does. The first obvious sign was physical. I started reaching for her automatically. Small touches, mostly my hand against her neck while passing behind her my arm around her waist, pulling her closer absentmindedly during conversations.
Not conscious gestures but instinctive ones That level of unconscious comfort is unusual for me, especially physically.

The night I came home and found her downstairs watching television with Amy, exhaustion sat heavy enough that I didn’t even process the movement before touching her briefly while ending a call. Only afterward did I realize what I’d done . Amy noticed too, unfortunately. Which resulted in commentary I ignored completely. Still, her observation wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

Aurelia changed my behavior in ways most people wouldn’t notice immediately. My voice stayed quieter around her. My guard lowered. Even silence felt different. Less strategic, more restful. Later that night while working beside her downstairs, I realized something else: I no longer felt pressure to perform composure constantly around her. When she asked if I was tired, I answered honestly instead of automatically dismissing it. That’s significant. Because exhaustion usually feels like vulnerability in most environments, with her it didn’t.

The car ride several days later confirmed the pattern further. She called me clingy after noticing how often I touched her now. Objectively, she was probably right. Though I still considered the term inaccurate The important part wasn’t the physical affection itself. It was what caused it. Comfort Instinct Trust Those things alter behavior naturally over time.

When she admitted quietly that she liked it, something in my chest tightened Just warm. That reaction alone irritated me slightly on principle.
Later that night after returning home, I finished the remaining work before finally going upstairs. The second she lifted the blanket toward me without saying anything else, I felt the last layer of tension from the day disappear. No performance, no conversation required. Just presence.

I got into bed beside her and immediately relaxed further when she touched my hair lightly. Again, an instinctive response. My body reacted to her comfort before conscious thought even entered the process. That level of trust is dangerous in most situations. With her, it felt inevitable instead. And lying there beside her in the quiet darkness, I realized something fully. She had become the only place where I stopped carrying the weight of everything constantly. The only place I rested completely.

Aurelia

There’s a specific kind of quiet that only exists late at night in Silverridge. Not the empty kind or the lonely kind. More like the world finally stopped asking anything from you for a few hours. That was the space Talon and I kept slipping into lately. It wasn’t planned. It just happens more often than not now. That night, I was lying on my side in his room with the lights low and my phone long forgotten somewhere across the bed.

He was beside me, not on his laptop for once. Which honestly felt like a rare event worth documenting. He had one arm tucked under his head, the other resting loosely near me like he forgot to pull it away. Outside, the city looked soft through the glass.
Dim lights, slow movement Everything was quieter than usual. I turned my head slightly toward him. “You’re actually not working,” I said.

“I finished," he said.
“That sounds suspicious.”
“It’s accurate," he replied.
I smiled a little. “You say that like it fixes everything.”

“It does," he said.
“Of course it does in your world.” That got a small breath from him that almost counted as a laugh. I shifted slightly closer without thinking. Not even intentional anymore Just automatic, like my body already decided where it felt safest. “Do you ever get scared?" I asked quietly.

That made him pause. Not dramatically, just enough that I noticed. “Yes,” he said after a second. That surprised me a little. Not because I thought he was emotionless But because he didn’t usually answer that fast, “What about it?" I asked. Another pause. Then, “Losing control of outcomes I should be responsible for," he said, and I nodded slowly. That made sense. Very Talon, I traced a small line on the blanket between us while thinking.

“I get scared of messing up my future,” I admitted.
“You won't," he said. 
“That’s a very confident statement.”

“It’s observation," he said. I looked at him. “You really trust me that much.”
"Yes," he replied with no hesitation. Just a fact, I swallowed slightly at that and looked back up at the ceiling. The quiet between us didn’t feel heavy. It felt steady. Like we could leave space in conversation now without it meaning distance. A few minutes passed before he spoke again.

“You overthink less now.” he said
“Excuse me?”
“You used to analyze every outcome.” He replied.
“I still do that.”

"Less," he said, and I thought about it. He wasn’t wrong. Third semester had changed something in me. Not completely, but enough that I didn’t spiral over every possible version of the future anymore, mostly.
“Maybe I’m learning from you,” I said.
“That sounds concerning," he said.

I laughed quietly. "Why?"
“I don’t want you becoming like me.” He replied.
“I don’t think that’s possible.” i said That made him turn his head slightly toward me.
“What do you think you’re becoming?" he asked. That question landed differently. Not intense, just real. I took a second before answering.

“More grounded maybe,” I said. “Less chaotic in my head.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s good," he said. 
“You approve of my emotional development?”
“I observe it," he replied.

“Very romantic of you.” I said, and that got a faint smile again. I liked those. The small ones The ones that didn’t feel like effort from him After a while I shifted closer again until my shoulder lightly touched his. “Can I ask something weird?" I said.
“You usually do," he said. 

I ignored that. “Do you ever feel lonely?" There was a longer pause this time, not uncomfortable. Just thoughtful. “Yes,” he said eventually, and that surprised me more than the first confession. I turned slightly to look at him.
“When.” I asked.

“Before you," he replied. That hit quieter than I expected. Not dramatic, just honest. I didn’t know what to say for a second. So I just reached for his hand. He immediately turned his palm to mine without hesitation. That alone said everything. “You don’t feel that now,” I asked.