They woke up to the soft crackle of the call still running —
not a ringtone, not an alarm.
Just the quiet hum of connection,
the way it always lingered when neither of them could let go.
Eira blinked into the dim light of morning spilling through her curtains.
Her phone, still warm against her cheek, buzzed gently —
not from a message, but from breath.
His breath.
"Still here," his voice murmured, rough with sleep. "Told you."
She smiled, slow and sleepy.
"You didn't hang up."
"Didn't want to."
A pause, soft and full of meaning.
"Didn't want to miss you."
She closed her eyes again, heart unfolding like something long-forgotten.
And then suddenly she be like
"Hello, stranger."
Ares laughed, low and familiar. "Stranger? That hurts."
She curled deeper into her blanket, biting back a grin. "You weren't talking for seven hours."
"I was sleeping," he said, mock-offended. "Like a normal human being."
"That's debatable."
"Oh?" he challenged playfully. "What am I then?"
She tilted her head toward the ceiling, smiling.
"Something slightly unreal. Like a dream that remembered to call me back."
Ares groaned. "Stop. You're going to make me write another song."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I already have a folder labeled 'Eira—Potential Heart Damage.'"
She burst into giggles, warm and unguarded. "That's not a real folder."
"It is. I'm looking at it right now. One of the files is just your laugh looped three times."
Her cheeks burned, but she was laughing too hard to hide it. "You're ridiculous."
"And you love it," he replied, a little softer this time.
She didn't deny it.
Didn't need to.
---
There was a pause.
Not heavy. Just... full.
Like both of them had things pressing against their ribs, waiting to be said.
Ares broke the silence first.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
"…Do you ever think about meeting?"
The question landed like a whisper down her spine.
Not unexpected—but still electric.
She blinked slowly, heart thudding in that strange, weightless way.
"I think about it all the time," she confessed.
He exhaled, like he'd been holding that breath all evening.
"Okay, good. I thought maybe I was the only one daydreaming like a teenager."
"You're definitely not."
A quiet, smiling silence followed.
Eira rolled onto her back, eyes tracing the constellations of cracks on her ceiling.
"What do you imagine? When you think about it?"
Ares didn't answer right away. She could hear him shifting, could *feel* him getting closer to the thought.
"I think about walking toward you," he said finally. "Not running. Just... steady. Like I already know you'll be there. Like I don't have to rush."
Her breath caught in her throat.
"I think about the moment your eyes find mine," he continued, softer now. "And everything else just kind of... quiets. The street, the noise, even my brain."
She swallowed. "You get noisy up there too?"
"Oh, constantly. But not with you."
That admission settled into her chest like warmth.
"What else?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
He hesitated—just long enough to make her smile.
"Okay," he said, almost shyly. "I imagine hugging you. Just holding you for a long time. Not because it's romantic. Just because… I think my arms would know what to do with you."
Eira's heart ached, beautifully.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her laugh coming out soft and watery.
"Why do you say things like that?"
"Because I mean them."
She laughed again, hiding her face. "You're going to make me cry in the dark like a crazy person."
"I'll cry with you," he offered. "We'll be emotionally unstable together."
They both giggled, breathless and giddy.
Then quieter.
More sincere.
"I think about it too," she whispered. "All the time."
"Tell me."
She smiled into the quiet.
"I think about sitting next to you on a park bench," she said. "Close, but not quite touching. Just… almost. Like the air between our shoulders is buzzing."
He hummed, the sound rich and full of promise.
"And I think about your hand on mine," she went on. "Not grabbing. Just resting. Like it's saying, *I'm here if you want me.*"
Ares let out a soft, uneven breath. "God. You're going to undo me."
Eira giggled, burying her face in her pillow.
"You're the one who brought it up," she reminded him.
"I know. And now I'm just sitting here smiling like a lovesick idiot."
"You're not an idiot."
"No?"
"Just lovesick," she said.
He laughed again, soft and real and slightly stunned.
And then—
"Eira?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"I think I want to see you. Like, really see you. Not someday. Soon."
Her pulse jumped.
Her breath hitched.
She didn't panic.
Instead, she smiled so wide it hurt.
"I want that too," she said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Let's meet."
Ares was quiet for a beat.
Then:
"God, I'm going to be nervous."
"I'll be worse," she promised. "I'll probably forget how walking works."
"I'll remind you," he said. "Step one: walk toward me."
She giggled, heart thudding. "And step two?"
"Let me hold you."
Silence again.
But not from fear.
From wonder.
From how real it was suddenly becoming.
---
Before getting ready for work they stayed on the phone for another hour.
After that they hung up—reluctantly—but with a promise.
Next time wouldn't be over the phone.
Next time, they'd be real.
Next time, there'd be no signal between them—just skin and breath and the quiet miracle of finally arriving.