#z4

It was the kind of Saturday that begged for laziness. No obligations, no deadlines—just you, Malachi, and the creak of his old ceiling fan turning slow circles above his bed. His parents were home, but downstairs, voices drifting faintly from the kitchen as they fussed over dinner. Up here in his room, though, it felt like your own private bubble.

Malachi sprawled across the bed, socked feet dangling off the edge, while you leaned back against his pillows with a controller in your hands. The TV hummed with the glow of some action movie neither of you were really watching.

"You’re cheating," you muttered, narrowing your eyes at him as he beat you in yet another round of the racing game.

"I’m just better," he shot back with a smirk, tossing his controller aside like he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes button-mashing like his life depended on it.

You threw a pillow at him. He caught it with a laugh, the kind that shook through his chest and warmed you all the way down to your toes.

"Fine," you said, pretending to be annoyed as you dropped your own controller. "You win."

"Finally, some respect around here." He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head with mock arrogance.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, he crooked his finger at you. "C’mere."

There was something in the way he said it - soft, but commanding - that made your heart skip. You tried to play it off, sighing dramatically as you crawled over the comforter toward him.

Malachi didn’t give you a chance to settle anywhere else. The moment you were within reach, his hand slid around your waist and tugged you down onto his lap. You let out a startled little laugh, bracing your palms against his chest.

"Mal..."

"Shh." He tilted his chin up, eyes flicking from your lips back to your gaze, waiting.

You didn’t make him wait long. The kiss was tentative at first, just a brush of lips. But Malachi wasn’t built for hesitation. He deepened it almost immediately, his fingers tightening at your hip as if daring you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Instead, your arms looped around his neck, drawing yourself closer until you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. His lips moved against yours with that mix of confidence and hunger that always left your head spinning.

Minutes slipped by unnoticed. The movie became background noise, the only real sound the quiet hitch of your breaths and the faint rustle of blankets as you shifted against him.

At some point, you ended up straddling him properly, knees bracketing his hips. The new angle made you gasp, the press of his body against yours undeniable. His hands slid lower, resting at your waist but not pushing - just holding, grounding, like he wanted you to set the pace.

You did. Tentatively at first, a subtle roll of your hips. The friction made you shiver, burying your face against his jaw as your cheeks heated.

Malachi’s grip tightened, his breath catching. "Babe…" His voice was rougher now, softer at the edges.

The sound of it spurred you on. You rocked against him again, slow, experimental. His lips found yours once more, hungrier now, swallowing your shy little whimpers as if he couldn’t get enough.

It was dizzying - the warmth, the closeness, the way his hands splayed against your back like he never wanted to let go. You lost track of everything except him.

Until the door creaked open.

"Malachi..."

You froze. So did he.

His mom stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, though her expression was more amused than scandalized. Her gaze darted between the two of you - your flushed cheeks, your position on his lap, his guilty stillness.

"Dinner’s ready in ten," she said evenly. Then, with a small smile, "And hi, sweetheart."

Your whole body went hot with embarrassment. You scrambled off his lap like you’d been burned, practically tripping over the comforter as you tried to put some distance between you.

"Uh...hi, Felicia," you squeaked, refusing to meet her eyes.

She chuckled under her breath, clearly entertained, and closed the door behind her.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You sat on the edge of the bed, face in your hands, wishing you could vanish. Malachi was still leaning back against the pillows, trying very hard not to laugh.

"Babe…" he murmured, reaching out to tug gently at your wrist.

You shot him a mortified glare. "Don’t."

"She doesn’t care," he said, chuckling softly. "Seriously. She loves you. You could set the house on fire and she’d still invite you to dinner."

"That makes it worse!" you hissed, burying your face in your palms again.

Malachi slid closer, prying your hands away and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "No, it makes it better. Means we don’t have to sneak around."

You groaned. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah," he agreed with a grin, pulling you back into his chest, "but I’m your impossible."

Even though your cheeks stayed pink all through dinner, his mom was as warm and kind as always - asking you questions, slipping you extra helpings, and even winking when Malachi wasn’t looking. He, of course, couldn’t stop smirking every time your knees brushed under the table.

And later, when you were curled back up in his room, he whispered against your ear, "Told you she doesn’t care."

You swatted at him, still embarrassed - but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

If it had been anyone else, she would've been done for, but he was safe. He had always been safe.

"No," she breathes.

He hums and she sinks into his hold, trusting him to keep her upright. She didn't know what to start with, what he knew, if he even knew at all. Everything she wants to say builds in her chest, and then she finds that a part of her doesn't want to say anything at all, because this is the most peace she's felt all week. No secret glances or fleeting touches. Just them and the cave hiding them away from the rest of the world.

"I missed you," Victor tells her, like it's the simplest thing in the world. She wishes it was, wishes that there wasn't so much keeping them apart.

"We saw each other this morning," she says, squeezing her eyes shut when she feels his face tuck against her neck.

"You know that's not the same," he dismisses quietly, pressing a kiss against her skin. "I missed you, Nova," another kiss, this one lingering longer, a tighter tug around her waist before everything falls away. "Aren't you tired of hiding?"

She turns around and reaches for him before he fades back into the shadows of the cave, a creature shoved back where he belongs. Except, he's never belonged, not like the rest. Not when it comes to her, or the way any of them think now, eager to draw a line in the sand and never turn back.

"Of course I am," she says, pale fingers pulling at his wrist. She catches the shine of his eyes as they flicker to her bracelet, to the lightstone that rests within. "But I also know what would happen if we told - "

"You've seen the new outsiders, haven't you?" Victor interrupts carefully, and there's something hiding in his gaze that makes her heart beat faster. "They're different and they seem to work just fine. Why can't we?"

"And what do you think they had to go through to get there?" she asks him, voice coming out louder than she means it to be. He simply looks at her, silent. Nova sighs, shaking her head. "I want everything you want. I'm just scared," she admits, and she hates this, laying her heart bare for anyone to come along and pick at it as they please, but this is Victor. He's never hurt her, has always been kind touches and simple smiles, and she refuses to believe everything she's been told when someone like him exists and continues to prove them wrong.

He's more than some scary folktale.

She glances behind her, back out the entrance of the cave, takes in the way the waves lap at the sand of the beach. She remembers playing in that sand growing up, remembers her mother telling her never to run where the sun couldn't reach her. She wonders if he ever played in the same sand under the touch of moonlight.

"We'll get our chance," Victor whispers, bringing her attention back. "Someday."

Nova chuckles at that, fingers slipping between his. "Someone's been hanging out with the outsiders more than he lets on." He squeezes her hand in return, pulling her back to him. Her arms slip around his neck.

"Jealous?" he asks her, teasing.