The next morning, Eira woke up with a bundle of nerves doing tiny cartwheels in her stomach. Not dread. Not quite fear either. It was that bubbly, fizzy kind of feeling — like holding your breath at the top of a roller coaster, just before the drop. The kind of feeling that made your heart skip for no real reason… except maybe a certain boy with messy hair and a voice that made her toes curl.
Because last night, Ares had said he wanted to see her.
See her.
She blinked sleepily and reached for her phone, heart already doing a nervous little cha-cha.
No "Good Morning" text.
No voice note.
Huh.
Was it silly to feel a little pouty?
And then — ding — her phone lit up like it had read her mind.
Ares is calling you — Video.
Her eyes widened. Her stomach flipped.
Their first video call.
Her heart jumped. Not the cute kind of flutter. The full-body, how-am-I-supposed-to-breathe-right-now kind.
She stared at the screen like it might bite her. Then laughed quietly at herself — because what was this? She'd seen his face a thousand times. Lives, reels, stories, late-night voice chats with his sleepy eyes peeking through a hood. But this?
This call wasn't for everyone.
It was for her.
She squeaked. Literally squeaked. Then smacked a pillow over her face and kicked her blanket off dramatically. Suddenly, her hair felt like a disaster. Her voice felt too croaky. And her face — oh god, did she have pillow lines?!
But her finger still hovered over the green button, her lips curving into the kind of smile that you couldn't fight off even if you tried.
She pressed accept, holding her breath like it would somehow soften the moment.
And then — there he was.
Ares. In full color and motion. Hair messy from bed, hoodie slightly wrinkled, his eyes wide and unguarded as he looked at her like he wasn't ready, either.
For a long second, they both just stared.
No one spoke.
Not yet.
Just the sound of their phones catching breath.
Then, slowly, he smiled — a quiet, lopsided curve of the mouth that hit her like sunrise.
"Hey," he said, voice a little rough, a little amazed.
Eira blinked. "Oh my god."
He laughed. "That's your opener?"
"I mean—look at you!" she said, hiding half her face behind her hand. "You're too real. It's messing with my brain."
"I could say the same," he replied, leaning into the screen. "I've never seen you like this. No compression. No lag. Just... you."
She breathed, her voice coming out lighter than she expected. "You're really… wow."
He blinked, then grinned wider. "Am I a wow now?"
"You're a wow every time," she said, "but this time it's like… exclusively mine."
Ares leaned closer to the camera. "You've seen me a thousand times. Why do I still make you blush?"
She giggled and turned the phone slightly, half hiding her face. "Because this is different! You're not just Ares-from-the-screen anymore. You're Ares-who-wants-to-meet-me. And that version? Way more dangerous."
"Oh no," he said, mock-dramatic. "I've ascended to dangerous?"
She nodded solemnly. "Emotionally lethal."
Ares chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, for what it's worth… seeing you right now? Just you — in your hoodie and that sleepy-laughing thing you do? It's... overwhelming."
"Overwhelming bad?"
"No. Overwhelming like… you match every part of you I imagined. But somehow more alive. You talk with your whole face, you know that?"
"I don't!"
He grinned. "It's like your cheeks do a little dance every time you smile. I've watched hundreds of faces in my life and yours just… glows differently."
She covered her mouth. "Ares."
"Yeah?"
"You're flirting again."
"I'm confessing," he said.
A beat of silence.
Her heart stared doing a cartwheel and the empty room was suddenly full of voice of her heart doing 'duk-duk, duk-duk' per miliseconds.
"Eira."
He said her name like it wasn't just a word, but something he'd been practicing.
He rested his chin in his palm, gazing at her like she was the most interesting poem he'd ever read. "I like you, Eira. Not screen-you. Not just voice-you. You. All the tiny versions."
Her heart did that ridiculous flutter again, like a thousand moths trapped under her ribs.
He leaned back. "I was scared, you know."
"What? You?"
"I didn't sleep much last night," he admitted. "I kept thinking, what if this ruins it? What if we're better as pixels and metaphors?"
Her eyes dropped. Not from shyness — from impact.
There it was again. The way he didn't flirt like he was trying to win. He flirted like he was telling the truth too gently for the world to interrupt.
She raised her eyes again. "I was scared too," she admitted. "But, maybe we were metaphors before… but right now, you feel pretty real to me."
"And I don't think you ruined anything. I think… maybe this is the beginning."
"I like you too, Ares — more than you think, far more than you ever dare to imagine and maybe more than I should. Like a feeling that grows quietly, but fills every corner of me."
For a moment, the world seemed to hush around them — just two souls suspended in a fragile, glowing bubble. Ares's breath caught softly, his eyes searching hers like he was trying to memorize every flicker of emotion dancing there. Eira felt the heat rise in her cheeks, a shy warmth blooming in her chest that made her fingers tingle. Neither spoke for a heartbeat, but in that silence, something unspoken bloomed — a quiet understanding, tender and true. Then, almost imperceptibly, Ares's lips curved into a slow, genuine smile, and Eira's heart stumbled and soared all at once. It was the kind of moment where everything feels both impossibly fragile and beautifully certain.