The house was quiet, every creak of the floorboards magnified in the darkness. Celine stepped lightly out of her bedroom, her night gown brushing against her ankles as she tiptoed down the hallway. The soft moonlight spilled through the windows, guiding her path as she made her way to the kitchen.
She paused at the doorway, eyes adjusting to the shadows, before stepping inside. The kitchen was bathed in a faint silver glow, the only sound the soft clink of glass as August sat at the counter, sipping something from a tumbler. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, letting the darkness set the mood.
Her eyes met his, and even in the dim light, she could see the faint curve of a smirk on his lips as his gaze traced her every movement. Even in the dark, he seemed fully aware of the way her gown hugged her, the soft sway of her body as she stepped forward.
"Can't sleep?" he asked softly, voice low, teasing.
"No…" Celine muttered, her lips pressed together, a hint of shyness beneath the teasing in her eyes.
"Me neither," he replied, voice smooth, a playful lilt hiding beneath the warmth. His eyes held her, attentive and a little bold, as if the alcohol in his system had loosened the careful restraint he usually maintained. "Though seeing you like this… makes it very hard to pretend I am."
Celine leaned lightly against the counter, letting her hair fall forward, brushing the edge of her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow, playful and daring. "Maybe that's the point," she whispered, letting her teasing smile linger.
August chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Impossible," he murmured. "You really have a talent for making nights… interesting."
She took a small step closer, the soft fabric of her gown sliding just enough along her form to catch his attention. "You're staring," she said softly, voice low, a little teasing, a little breathless.
"Am I?" he replied, tilting his head, letting a slow smirk curve his lips. "Or am I just… appreciating the view?"
Celine's laugh was quiet, soft and teasing. "Maybe a little of both," she murmured, letting her gaze linger on him over the rim of her glass. "Though I don't see you drinking much water…"
"I don't need water to keep awake," he said, voice dropping slightly, leaning a fraction closer, though careful not to crowd her. "Some company is more… stimulating."
Her lips curved into a playful smile, fingers brushing lightly along the counter near his hand, the air between them thick with unspoken electricity. She leaned just a little closer, letting her gown catch the faint moonlight, the teasing glimmer in her eyes daring him to react.
"You know," he murmured, voice low and deliberate, "it's unfair how… distracting you are."
Celine tilted her head, letting a strand of hair fall over her shoulder, eyes glinting mischievously. "Distracting?" she whispered. "Me? I think you're the one who can't take your eyes off me."
August's smirk softened, gaze lingering on her, intent but careful. "Maybe," he admitted, a low murmur. "But some things… are worth staring at."
She laughed quietly, soft and playful, letting her gaze drop to the counter, then back up, prolonging the tension as August leaned in slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. The teasing smirk softened into something warmer, more intent, and the playful edge in his eyes deepened.
He raised his hand just slightly, letting his knuckles brush gently against Celine's cheek. The movement was light, almost casual, but charged, a subtle, intimate gesture that made the air between them hum.
Celine's eyes fluttered closed at the touch, a small, breathy sigh escaping her lips. She felt the warmth of his hand linger, the faint roughness of his knuckles against the softness of her skin. It wasn't forceful, it was deliberate, teasing, and intimate all at once.
August's thumb traced a slow, gentle line along her cheekbone, his eyes lowering to watch her reaction. "You make it very… difficult to behave," he murmured, voice low, almost a whisper, teasing but tinged with something more.
Celine's lips parted slightly, a soft whisper escaping her. "Don't…" she breathed, her eyes fluttering half-closed, inviting him yet teasing him at the same time.
August's smirk deepened, and he leaned in further, intent on closing the small gap between them, wanting to feel just how close they could be. The world seemed to shrink down to the small space of the kitchen, the hush of the night, the heat in their eyes.
Just as the tension peaked, the shrill ring of a phone cut sharply through the charged silence. Both startled, August broke the moment, leaning back just slightly and letting his hand fall from her cheek. Celine blinked, eyes wide, a small, breathless laugh escaping her.
August groaned softly, a mixture of frustration and amusement tugging at his lips. "Really?" he muttered, reaching for his phone, but not taking his gaze fully off her.
Celine smirked, hiding a little laugh behind her hand. "Seems even the universe doesn't want you to learn just yet," she teased softly, eyes sparkling in the dim moonlight.
August exhaled sharply, pulling back as he glanced at the screen. Julian's name flashed in the dark. Something in his expression changed as he answered.
"Julian?"
Celine watched his face as he listened. The softness vanished, replaced by concern.
"Ice cream?" August said. "And now he's feeling funny?"
He didn't need to hear much more.
"I'm coming," he said firmly.
He ended the call and turned, already moving toward the cupboard. Celine followed him, worry rising in her chest.
"August, what is it?"
"It's Liam," he said, opening the cupboard and pushing past boxes until he found a small bottle tucked at the back. A special juice, he took it out carefully, gripping it tight. "Julian says he doesn't feel right. Probably a sugar crash."
Celine's eyes widened. "Oh no…"
"He needs this," August said, already grabbing his keys.
She didn't hesitate. Even though she was still in her night gown, she followed him out of the kitchen, the earlier moment forgotten.
"Let's go," she said quietly.
And together, they rushed into the night. Julian's house glowed like a small island of light in the quiet street when August pulled up. He barely shut the car door before he was already moving, Celine right behind him.
The front door flew open.
Julian stood there, eyes wide with worry. "August—thank God."
Inside, Liam was slumped on the couch, a blanket pulled around his shoulders. His face looked pale, his small hands curled in on themselves.
August crossed the room in three long strides. "Hey, buddy," he said gently, kneeling in front of him. "I'm here."
Liam tried to smile but it didn't quite work.
Julian rubbed the back of his neck, clearly shaken. "Man, I don't know how it happened. We were just up playing games. I gave him a cup of ice cream and, bam. He said he felt weird and then he just… got like this."
"It's okay," August said calmly, though his eyes were sharp with focus. He took out the small bottle. "This is why I keep it."
Celine knelt beside him. "Hey, Liam," she said softly. "You're going to feel better soon, okay?"
August unscrewed the cap and tipped the bottle carefully. "Just a few sips."
Liam obeyed, swallowing slowly. The juice was thick and sweet, but within moments his breathing began to steady. The tightness in his face eased.
They waited in silence.
After a minute, Liam blinked and looked up. "Dad?"
"Yeah?" August said.
"I don't feel as funny now."
A breath Julian didn't know he was holding rushed out of him. "Oh, thank God…"
August squeezed Liam's shoulder. "That's my boy."
Celine watched the three of them, relief softening her face.
The house had gone quiet in that soft, fragile way that comes after a scare.
Liam was stretched out on the couch now, breathing evenly, the color slowly returning to his face. Julian had gone into the kitchen to make tea, leaving the living room wrapped in a gentle hush.
August stayed close, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, watching his son like he might disappear if he looked away. Only when Liam shifted and mumbled something sleepy did August finally relax his shoulders.
Celine stood nearby, arms folded loosely around herself. "He looks better," she said softly.
"He is," August replied. "The juice works fast. I just… hate seeing him like that."
Celine moved closer and sat beside him on the couch, leaving a careful space between them, but close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. "You got here in time," she said. "That's what matters."
August let out a long breath. "I always feel like I'm running. Like I'm either too late or just barely in time."
She looked at him then, really looked at him. He was but a tired father who loved his child more than anything.
"You don't look like someone who gives up," Celine said. "You look like someone who keeps showing up."
The words seemed to settle into him.
Across the room, Liam stirred. "Dad?"
"I'm right here," August said instantly.
Liam smiled faintly and drifted back to sleep.