It was afternoon and the sun filtered through the blinds, casting stripes of light across Lyric's room. Her bed was strewn with papers, sketchbooks, and a half-finished mug of tea. She was reorganizing her notes when the knock came.
"Come in," she called, not looking up.
Dax stepped inside without waiting, grinning like he owned the space. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.
Lyric raised an eyebrow, putting a stack of papers aside. "Depends. Are you here to help, or just to make a mess?"
"Maybe a little of both," he said, dropping onto the edge of her bed with his usual ease. "This place is… cozy."
Lyric rolled her eyes but smiled, setting down her pen. "It's just a room, Dax."
"Just a room," he repeated, tilting his head, eyes flicking around. "Nothing about it says 'just a room.' It says 'hang out, cause a little chaos, maybe steal some snacks.'"
"I wasn't planning on snacks," Lyric said, laughing softly.
He smirked, reaching over to grab a notebook from the desk. "Your tea," he added, picking up the mug. "Don't worry, I won't spill it. Unless I feel like it."
Lyric leaned back against the headboard, crossing her arms. "You're dangerously confident."
"I prefer honest," Dax said lightly. "Bold and honest. Makes everything easier."
She shook her head, trying to hide a grin. "I don't know why you always get away with saying stuff like that."
"Practice," he said with a shrug. "And a little talent."
There was a beat of silence, only the quiet hum of the fan overhead. Lyric's fingers drummed lightly on her notebook, pretending to focus on her sketches. Dax watched her, leaning slightly closer than he needed to.
"You're quiet today," he noted casually. "Not that I'm complaining."
Lyric looked up, feigning disinterest. "I'm concentrating."
He raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Sure. Concentrating."
She gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," he admitted. "But I'm also very good at reading people. You're thinking about something you're not saying. I can tell."
Lyric felt her chest tighten but didn't respond. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "You're full of yourself, you know that?"
"I know," he said, grinning. "But you like it."
Lyric laughed again, though she quickly covered her mouth, hoping he wouldn't notice the small flutter in her stomach.
"Careful," he said, leaning back just slightly, hands propped on the bed behind him. "You're starting to give yourself away."
"I'm not," she said, turning to her sketchbook, drawing imaginary lines she didn't intend anyone to see.
"Sure," he muttered, eyes following her every movement. "But someday, you'll realize it's already too late."
Dax didn't move right away. He stayed on the edge of her bed like he had all the time in the world, picking up random things and dropping them back carelessly. First her pen, then her sketchbook, then a hair tie she hadn't even realized was beside her.
"So," he said, twirling the hair tie around his finger, "is this how you always spend your afternoons? Locked in your room drawing mysterious little things and pretending you're not avoiding people?"
Lyric glanced at the hair tie and then at him.
"Give that back."
He leaned slightly out of reach.
"Make me."
Lyric scoffed and reached for it.
"Dax."
He pulled his hand farther away, laughing.
"You're slow."
She crawled forward on her knees and snatched it from him, bumping lightly into his shoulder in the process. He stilled for a second, like he hadn't expected the contact.
"Rude," he muttered, though he was smiling.
She dropped back against her pillow.
"You started it."
He shifted on the mattress, closer now without really acknowledging it.
"I always start things. You're the one who finishes them."
Lyric snorted.
"That made no sense."
"It did. You just don't like how it sounds."
She ignored that, pretending to rummage through her drawer while she tied her hair back.
"You always make everything weird," she said.
"Weird is good," he replied. "Weird is interesting."
There was a short silence, not uncomfortable, just… different. Dax lay back on his elbows, eyes moving slowly around her room like he was memorizing it. Lyric noticed how relaxed he seemed here, like her room didn't feel off-limits to him at all.
"You don't have a lot of pictures," he said.
"I don't like clutter," she answered.
"That explains why your head must be empty."
She kicked his leg lightly.
"Rude. Again."
He laughed, that soft one she was starting to recognize.
"You're too easy to annoy."
"You're too easy to want to throw things at."
"Throw something," he dared.
Lyric picked up a small pillow and tossed it at his face. He caught it with one hand and tossed it right back. It hit her shoulder and rolled off the bed.
"Okay, that was unnecessary," she said.
"No, what's unnecessary is pretending you don't like my company."
Lyric hesitated slightly.
"I never said I didn't.
"See?" he said, standing up now and taking a slow step toward her. "Honesty."
She muttered, "Don't flatter yourself."
He sat beside her again instead, close enough that she could feel warmth through the fabric of his shirt. Not touching, but close enough to notice.
"You do this thing," he said, glancing at her. "Where you pretend you don't care, but your eyes always give you away."
Lyric scoffed.
"My eyes don't do anything."
"They do when you're thinking too much."
She looked away.
"You're overanalyzing."
"Or I'm paying attention."
That made her chest tighten just a little.
She adjusted the sleeve of her shirt instead of answering.
"Why do you act like you're unattached to everything?" he asked, more casually now, like he hadn't just thrown something serious into the air between them.
Lyric shrugged.
"I don't see the point of being attached to people who don't stay."
Dax's jaw tightened slightly, just for a second, before he smiled again.
"You always talk like you're older than you are," he said.
She sighed.
"Maybe I just learn faster."
He watched her for a while without saying anything, then suddenly reached out and flicked her forehead.
"Ow."
"Stop thinking so hard," he said. "Makes you boring."
Lyric laughed despite herself.
"You're impossible."
"And you're still here," he pointed out.
She didn't answer that one.
Instead, she reached for one of her sketchbooks and flipped it open.
"You want to see what I've been working on or should I just continue pretending to tolerate you?"
"I'd rather both," he said easily. "But start with the sketch."
She turned the book toward him.
Dax leaned in to look, their shoulders brushing slightly this time. Lyric noticed it immediately, like her body was suddenly too aware of small things.
"This is actually good," he said quietly. "You don't ever brag about this stuff."
"I don't like bragging."
"You should learn."
"I don't need strangers validating my hobbies."
He glanced at her sideways.
"What about non-strangers?"
That caught her off guard.
She looked at him for a moment, unsure how to respond, then shrugged.
"Then maybe it's different."
He smiled at that, wider than usual.
"Good," he said.
They didn't move away from each other after that. No sudden touching, Just two people sitting too close, pretending it wasn't a big deal.