Onyx's POV
By the time we got home, and dinner with Pa was already finished.
Unfortunately for me, Jace had won.
All it took was one polite question — "Pa, would it be okay if I stayed the night. I feel sleepy and couldn't drive anymore." — and Pa had agreed without hesitation. No interrogation. No suspicion. Not even a pause.
Of course he said yes.
Why would he ever say no to Jace?
Now we were in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, facing each other like two rival generals temporarily calling a truce. Our laptops glowed between us, screens casting pale light across the floor. The ceiling fan hummed lazily overhead. The house was quiet, small, warm.
Too warm.
I never imagined I would be working on our Capstone project with Jace sitting on my living room carpet, while he is wearing my tank top like he had always belonged here.
"Can I play music?" he asked casually.
"No," I answered immediately. "Pa will sleep soon. He might get disturbed."
He dramatically turned his head toward my father's bedroom door.
"Pa! Can I play music?" he shouted.
My eyes widened. "How dare you," I hissed.
From his room, Pa called back cheerfully, "Yes, Jace! All good!"
Jace beamed. "Thank you!" he shouted back, then turned to me with a victorious smile. "See? Pa said it's okay."
"Jace, stop doing that," I muttered. "Pa can't say no to you. Be considerate. He has to wake up early tomorrow."
"Killjoy," he teased.
But he didn't play the music.
Instead, he yawned and stretched both arms above his head, exposing his underarm, unfortunately for my peace of mind, the unmistakable fact that he was wearing my tank top.
It fit him differently.
Tighter.
Unfairly so.
"If you want to sleep, just sleep," I said, forcing my gaze back to my screen. "Don't force yourself to stay awake."
"Fine. I'll take a fifteen-minute nap," he said. "Wake me up after."
He folded his arms on the low table and rested his head sideways on them. I could still see his face clearly.
I sighed and returned to my work.
Silence settled into the living room — not uncomfortable, but heavy in a way that made every sound more noticeable. The rhythmic tapping of my keyboard. The faint hum of the fan. And Jace's slow, steady breathing.
I focused on my code.
Line after line.
Syntax. Logic. Structure.
Then my fingers paused.
I blinked.
On the screen, in the middle of a variable declaration, one word stood alone:
"Attractive"
I stared at it.
My stomach tightened.
I erased it immediately, as if the word itself had insulted me.
People had complimented my looks before. It was not new. It was never important. It did not matter.
But when Jace said it—
Why did it feel like something had shifted?
I glanced at him.
He looked peaceful, breathing evenly, lashes resting against his cheek.
Did he mean it? Or was he teasing?
Before I could overthink further, his eyelids fluttered. He was about to open them.
I snapped my gaze back to my laptop so fast my neck almost cracked.
"Don't you want to rest?" he asked lazily.
"No," I replied, still staring at my screen. "I'm not tired."
He didn't answer.
The silence stretched.
Curious — against my better judgment — I allowed myself a quick glance.
He was already looking at me.
I looked away instantly.
"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked softly.
"No."
"Your cheeks are red."
"My cheeks are always flushed," I replied quickly. "It's normal."
He didn't respond, but I could feel it.
He was still looking at me.
"Aren't you going to nap?" I asked.
"You type loudly," he said. "How am I supposed to sleep?"
"Then sleep on the couch."
He shifted slightly but didn't move away. "You're always so focused on studying. Don't you focus on other things?"
"Like what?" I asked, still pretending to care more about my code than this conversation.
"I don't know," he said lightly. "Travel, games, sports, party. Do something other than studying. Or maybe get into a relationship."
"Travel? I'm fine staying home," I answered. "And I'd rather be productive than drink at a bar, if that's what you're implying."
"And the last one?" he pressed. "Getting into a relationship?"
"Not my priority," I said. "I told you before."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Have you ever had a crush?" he asked. "Pre-school? Grade school? High school? College?"
"No."
"Never?"
"I was focused on my studies."
"I see," he murmured. "So how does someone get Onyx's attention?"
I finally looked at him.
"My attention?"
"Hypothetically," he continued, resting his chin on his folded arms. "If someone were interested in you... what would they have to do? How would they even start? What would give them a chance?"
My chest tightened slightly.
Why was he asking like that?
I swallowed and looked back at my screen, though I wasn't reading anything anymore.
"The truth is," I said, choosing my words carefully, "I understand the concept of love on a theoretical level. But I've never experienced it—never felt romantic attraction toward anyone. So I wouldn't know where to begin."."
"That's difficult," he teased gently. "You're too dormant."
I frowned.
"But that's the challenge, right?" he continued, his voice softer now. "To make you feel something. So what's the best thing someone could do to make you fall? Something that can make you think twice about this 'person'."
The question lingered between us.
The fan continued to spin.
The laptop screen glowed.
His eyes didn't leave me.
I exhaled slowly and stared at the ceiling as if it contained the answer to a complex equation—something with too many variables and no clean solution.
"I don't think I would fall for someone loud," I began carefully. "Or dramatic. Or... chaotic."
Jace raised one eyebrow. "That eliminates most of the population," he said. "Let's cross them out."
"Exactly," I replied. "If someone wanted my attention, they would have to be calm. Stable. Not easily shaken."
He did not answer.
"They should not shout when they are angry," I continued, folding my arms as if presenting a thesis defense. "That is inefficient. If you are angry, speak properly. Do not explode."
His jaw shifted almost imperceptibly.
"And they should not be careless," I added pointedly. "Like drinking too much and needing someone to pick them up."
He let out a soft breath through his nose.
"Why did that sound like you were referring to me?" he asked.
"I am not done explaining," I said.
"Okay, Boss," he replied obediently, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
"They should... notice things," I went on, frowning as I searched for the right words. "Small things. Like when I am uncomfortable. Or when I dislike something. And they should not force me."
Silence settled between us.
"And I think..." I hesitated.
He was staring at me now.
Waiting.
"I think I would only like someone if I felt safe with them," I said at last. "Not flashy. Not showy. Just... safe. Like I would not have to perform or impress them."
The air in the room shifted. It was subtle, but I felt it.
"And they cannot make me feel small," I added quickly. "I hate that. If someone makes me feel inferior, that is automatic disqualification."
His voice was quieter when he spoke again.
"So you want someone calm. Responsible. Protective. Observant. Not reckless. Someone who makes you feel safe," he summarized.
I frowned. "When did I say protective?"
"You implied it."
"I did not," I argued. "I said stable."
"That is almost the same thing."
"It's not," I insisted. "If you need clarification, consult a dictionary."
He leaned back slightly, studying me like I was a subject in a laboratory experiment. As if he were documenting my reactions.
"And what about physical attraction?" he asked softly.
I paused.
"That part is confusing," I admitted. "I do not think I would like someone just because they are good-looking. That feels shallow."
"Mm."
"It would probably happen when I start noticing them more than necessary," I said absentmindedly. "Like... when their absence feels louder than their presence."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
The silence that followed was thick. Heavy.
I blinked.
"That sounded dramatic," I added quickly. "Ignore that."
Jace did not laugh.
He did not tease.
He simply looked at me.
Very carefully.
"Wow... for someone who's never even liked anyone romantically, you've got a lot of demands, don't you?" He shot back.
"Can we get back to work?" I asked, clearing my throat. "You are stalling me from being productive."
"Sure, Boss," he said, grinning.
And just like that, the tension dissolved—or at least pretended to.
But something had shifted.
I could feel it.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up as my alarm went on.
Jace was no longer in my room.
For a brief second, I stared at the empty mattress on the floor where he had been sleeping. The air felt colder. Less crowded.
There was a note resting on top of my closed laptop.
I picked it up.
He noted that he had already left.
That was it. No dramatic message. No unnecessary commentary.
Typical.
I did not think much of it. I would see him later at university anyway. He would probably annoy me before noon. Balance would be restored.
So I followed my routine.
Washed up. Dressed. Packed my things.
Normal.
Everything felt normal.
By the time I reached the classroom, it was still early. I sat in my usual seat, placed my bag down, opened my laptop, and focused on my screen.
By 8:00 a.m., the professor walked in and greeted the class.
I looked up instinctively, then glanced to my right without thinking.
The chair beside me was empty.
I blinked once, as if that might change something—but it didn't. It remained empty, undisturbed, as though no one had ever claimed it.
My gaze shifted toward the door, half-expecting a late entrance—something careless, something predictable. A lazy stroll. A smirk. Anything.
There was nothing.
"Jace isn't here yet?" I murmured under my breath.
I checked the time again.
8:03 a.m.
A faint crease formed between my brows as the thought settled in, quiet but persistent.
Is he not coming today?
The professor began speaking. Students adjusted in their seats, pens clicking, keyboards tapping as the room slowly filled with noise.
But beside me—there was still nothing.
And for some reason, that absence felt louder than anything else.
End of Chapter 17