Chapter 4 — This feels weird …Being comfortable next to someone
The next morning didn't wake me with pain or panic, but with the soft shuffle of someone opening my blinds a little too enthusiastically. Sunlight pushed its way into the room like it had paid rent, washing everything in warm gold that I wasn't sure I appreciated yet.
My ribs ached, but the sharp stab from earlier had dulled to something manageable—like my entire torso was one big bruise that had learned to behave.
For a moment, I lay still and let the clarity settle in.
I was alive.
Again.
And I had a system.
Also… Ava would be back today.
That last thought hit harder than I wanted to admit. Something fluttered low in my stomach, a strange little spark that had no business being there given my entire body was currently held together by tape, gauze, and cheap hospital hope.
I reached for the cup of water on the tray beside me, winced, and abandoned the idea. Too much effort.
Instead, I blinked—and as if summoned by thought alone, soft blue light bloomed in the air.
A new panel slid into focus.
Just a clean interface, smooth and modern, like something out of a well-funded startup.
ETHAN L. RIVERS — PERSONAL PROFILE
Core Stats:
Strength: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 6
Charm: 8
Luck: 5
Confidence: 7
Derived Stats:
Perception: Beginner (Unlocked via Social Insight)
Skills:
Beginner Social Insight
Soulful Gaze — Trait
Beginner Cooking — Locked (Pending Main Quest)
Singing —
Affection Levels:Ava Monroe — 14 / ???
Quests:Main Quest — Build Trust
Step 1: Provide one moment of genuine support
Reward: Beginner Cooking Skill
Daily Quest — Pending
The panel dissolved into particles of blue light like pixels disintegrating.
"Well," I muttered, "at least it's organized. Better UI than my bank app."
My "Charm: 15" flickered in my thoughts, and I snorted.If only high school Ethan could've seen this—finally charming because a supernatural software update said so.
I shifted against the pillows, testing how far I could move without pain clawing back up my ribs. Not far. Not gracefully. But enough.
A soft rap on the door turned my head.
And there she was.
Ava stepped inside with the kind of presence that made the heart monitor go, Oh? New target acquired? because the beeping immediately sped up.
She pretended not to notice, though her smile tugged wider, softer.
"Morning," she said.
Her hair was loose today, falling around her shoulders in messy waves like she'd tossed it up earlier and let it fall on the walk over. She wore an oversized hoodie that swallowed her frame, sleeves covering half her hands. The kind of casual, effortless look influencers somehow made into a brand.
Except today, she didn't look like she was trying to be anything.
She just… was.
"Hey," I said, my voice still gravelly. "Still not dead."
"That's my favorite update," she replied.
She approached the bed with slow steps, holding something—a thermos and another paper bag, probably food. My stomach perked up like a hopeful dog.
"You brought contraband again?" I asked.
"Only the best for the guy who saved my life," she teased.
"You know, you don't have to keep doing that," I said.
"I know," she said simply. "I want to."
The air shifted.
Not dramatically. Not romantically.
Just… gently.
She set the food down and sat in the chair beside me. Her eyes skimmed over my face—checking, scanning, worrying. She didn't touch me yet, but the closeness was enough to make my ribs forget they hurt.
"You look better today," she said.
"Define better."
"You're not green."
"Oh. High praise."
She laughed—soft and breathy—and the sound settled warm in my chest.
We ate together, or rather, I ate while she nursed a coffee and watched me like she needed proof I was really okay. I tried not to look too eager with the breakfast sandwich, but I failed spectacularly.
"You know I'm starting to suspect," I said around a bite, "that you're bribing me into staying alive."
"If it works, I'll bring you a whole bakery."
"Dangerous promise."
She smiled, sipping her drink.
The conversation drifted slowly, comfortably. About classes. Her friends. Campus drama. Nothing heavy at first.
But then Social Insight—the new sense humming quietly behind my perception—worked its subtle magic.
It wasn't mind-reading. It wasn't supernatural.
It was just… awareness.
The softness behind her smile.The exhaustion hidden under caffeine.The tension in her shoulders when she mentioned practice.The way her eyes flickered down whenever something vulnerable tried to surface.
And I understood.
She was still shaken.She was still carrying the weight of the accident.She was still processing the fear she refused to voice.
I leaned back, watching her with a thoughtfulness I didn't have two days ago.
"You didn't sleep well again," I said softly.
She blinked.Taken aback.Exposed, but not in a way that scared her.
"How did you—?"
"You look tired," I said. "Tired-tired. Not 'I'm busy' tired."
She exhaled, long and shaky.
"You're… weirdly perceptive," she murmured.
"Recent upgrades," I muttered under my breath.
Her brow furrowed. "What?"
"Nothing."
Silence rolled between us for a moment—warm, tentative, full of something patient.
Then she shifted. She tucked one leg under herself, pulling the chair closer, like she wanted to close the distance but didn't know how to ask.
"Can I… sit with you?" she asked.
I blinked. "Um. Yeah. Of course."
She hesitated only a heartbeat before climbing carefully onto the bed beside me—lying on her side, facing me, her head propped on one arm. Her hoodie draped around her like a blanket, and she looked smaller than ever this close.
My breath caught.
Close.
Too close.
Perfectly close.
Her eyes traced the line of my jaw, then darted away like she wasn't sure she was allowed to look.
"This feels weird," she whispered.
"What does?"
She swallowed.
"…Being comfortable next to someone."
That hit harder than the van.
Without thinking, I reached up slowly—giving her every chance to pull away—and brushed a soft lock of hair out of her eyes. My fingers grazed her cheek, warm and delicate.
She froze under the touch.
Not afraid.
Just… surprised.
Her breath hitched, softer than a sigh.
Her eyes lifted to meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then the system surged in the corner of my vision.
A quiet chime.A soft blue shimmer.
[Daily Quest Unlocked]
Perform 1 Act of Encouragement
Reward: ("Gentle Touch")
I didn't look away from her. Didn't even blink.
I didn't need a quest to tell me what she needed.
"You know," I murmured, "you don't have to pretend with me."
Her expression faltered—like a mask slipping. Her eyes glistened, not tearful but raw.
"I'm not pretending," she whispered.
"You are," I said gently, "but it's okay."
Ava closed her eyes. Not in dismissal. In relief. She looked so beautiful.
She pressed a hand lightly to my chest—not the bruised part, but near the shoulder where her touch wouldn't hurt.
"I wasn't supposed to be the one who got saved," she said quietly. "You shouldn't have—"
"I don't regret it," I interrupted softly. "Not even a little."
"Even if it cost you—"
"It didn't cost me you."
Her eyes widened, breath catching.
For one terrifying, wonderful second, I thought she might cry.
But instead, she buried her face briefly into the sleeve of her hoodie, inhaled, and let out the softest laugh.
"You're not supposed to be this good at talking," she whispered.
"Trust me," I said, "I'm very surprised too. But when I'm talking with you...it just feels natural."
She scooted closer—careful of my ribs—resting her forehead near mine. Not touching, but close enough that her breath warmed my lips.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted.
"Neither do I," I murmured.
"But," she said, eyes flicking to mine, "I feel… safe here."
Her fingers curled lightly into the blanket between us.
Encouragement.Support.The daily quest practically rang like a bell.
But this wasn't about quests.
This was about her.
"You're not alone," I said softly. "Not today."
Her lips trembled in the smallest smile.
The system flickered.
A warmth spread through my chest.
[Daily Quest Completed]
Reward: ("Gentle Touch" - Your touch carries subtle reassurance. When offering comfort, others feel safe in your presence.)
Something shifted in me—subtle, but real. A new gentleness. A deeper clarity. I could feel her emotions more distinctly now, not magically, but… humanly.
Ava sensed the shift too. Or maybe she sensed the calm in my expression.
She relaxed fully beside me, sinking into the mattress.
Minutes passed like that. then hoursQuiet.Breathing.Stolen warmth in a too-cold room.
Eventually— as the sun was starting to set...
"I should…" she whispered, trailing off.
"Yeah," I said softly, not wanting her to go.
She lingered another second—like she wanted to memorize something about this moment—and then slowly rolled away and sat up again.
Her eyes stayed on mine.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For not making me feel stupid."
"You could never."
A soft blush dusted her cheeks.
She stood, grabbed her bag, hesitated, then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my temple.
"I'll be back," she said.
I hated how much that promise mattered.
When she left, the room felt colder.My chest felt fuller.And the system shimmered once more.
[Main Quest Progress Updated]
Step 1 Complete — A moment of genuine support provided
Reward Ready: Beginner Cooking Skill
A warm pulse filtered through me, settling like muscle memory.
I exhaled softly.
Cooking skill.Charm increase.A girl lying next to me like I was something safe.
Life isn't so bad.