The silence between them grew heavier.
Not empty.
Not peaceful.
But filled with something fragile—
something that neither of them fully understood.
Arlen stood still.
His eyes locked onto hers.
As if looking away—
would make her disappear.
As if this moment—
was something that could not be trusted.
"…You should go."
His voice was softer now.
Not commanding.
Not cold.
Almost… pleading.
The girl didn't move.
Didn't step back.
Didn't break eye contact.
Instead—
she stepped closer.
One small step.
But enough to shatter distance.
"…I don't want to."
Her answer was simple.
But firm.
Arlen's fingers tightened slightly.
Not in anger.
But in hesitation.
Because this was wrong.
Everything about this—
was wrong.
She shouldn't be here.
She shouldn't be standing in front of him.
She shouldn't be looking at him like that.
And yet—
she was.
"…You don't understand."
He said quietly.
"I'm not someone you should stay near."
The girl listened.
Truly listened.
But her expression didn't change.
"…Then tell me."
She replied.
A pause.
"…Why?"
The question lingered.
Not demanding.
Not accusing.
Just… waiting.
Arlen's lips parted slightly.
But no words came out.
Because how do you explain something like this?
How do you tell someone—
that you are the reason the world is broken?
That your existence—
is a mistake that keeps repeating?
"…Because I destroy everything."
The truth came out.
Slow.
Heavy.
"…Everyone who comes close…"
A faint tremor in his voice.
"…ends up gone."
The girl lowered her gaze for a moment.
Not in fear.
Not in doubt.
But in thought.
Then—
she looked back at him.
"…I'm still here."
Those four words—
hit harder than everything else.
Arlen's breath caught.
Because she was right.
She was still here.
After everything.
After seeing what he had done.
After standing in a place where no one survived.
She was still here.
"…You won't be."
He whispered.
Almost to himself.
The girl's hand lifted slowly.
Carefully.
As if approaching something fragile.
Something that could break if touched wrong.
Arlen's eyes followed the movement.
His body tensed.
Not to attack.
Not to defend.
But because something inside him—
was panicking.
"…Don't."
He said.
But his voice—
lacked strength.
Because part of him—
didn't want her to stop.
Her hand continued forward.
Closer.
Closer.
Until—
it touched his.
The world stopped.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
But completely.
Because that touch—
was impossible.
Warm.
Alive.
Real.
Arlen's entire body froze.
His eyes widened slightly.
Because this—
this should not exist.
"…You're warm."
The girl said softly.
Almost in wonder.
As if confirming something important.
Arlen couldn't respond.
Because his mind—
had gone silent.
Because his body—
remembered something his soul had forgotten.
"…Why…"
His voice barely came out.
"…are you not afraid?"
The girl looked at him.
Still holding his hand.
Still standing there without hesitation.
"…Should I be?"
She asked gently.
Arlen's expression shifted.
Confusion.
Pain.
Something deeper.
"…Everyone is."
He said.
"…Everyone runs."
The girl shook her head slightly.
"…I don't feel like running."
A pause.
"…I feel like staying."
Her grip tightened just a little.
Not forcefully.
Just enough to be felt.
And that small pressure—
broke something inside him.
A memory.
A feeling.
A moment from a life that no longer existed.
A hand.
Just like this.
Holding his.
Not to stop him.
Not to control him.
But simply—
to be there.
"…No…"
The word slipped from him.
Almost like a whisper of disbelief.
Because he knew this feeling.
He knew this warmth.
He knew this presence.
And that was what made it terrifying.
"…You can't…"
His voice trembled.
"…be her."
The girl blinked.
"…Her?"
Arlen pulled his hand slightly.
Not fully away.
But enough to create distance.
As if trying to protect something.
As if trying to protect himself.
"…You remind me of someone."
He said.
Slowly.
Carefully.
"…Someone I lost."
The girl listened.
Quietly.
Her expression softened.
Not out of pity.
But understanding.
"…Maybe that's why I came."
She said.
Arlen shook his head immediately.
"…No."
Too fast.
Too certain.
"…That's not how it works."
Because if it was—
if something like that was possible—
then everything he believed about loss—
about death—
about endings—
would collapse.
"…Then why do I feel like I know you?"
Her question was gentle.
But it carried something undeniable.
Arlen didn't answer.
Because he didn't have one.
Because deep inside—
he felt it too.
That connection.
That familiarity.
That impossible sense of home.
Kael, still watching from afar, whispered under his breath.
"…This is bad…"
Because he understood.
Not everything.
But enough.
"…If that's really what I think it is…"
A pause.
"…then he won't be able to stop."
Because emotions—
once awakened—
cannot be controlled.
And for someone like Arlen—
that meant something dangerous.
The girl stepped even closer.
Now—
there was no space left between them.
Only breath.
Only presence.
Only something fragile—
that could break everything.
"…You don't have to be alone."
She said softly.
Those words—
simple.
But heavier than anything else.
Because loneliness—
was the one thing he could never escape.
Or so he thought.
Arlen's eyes trembled again.
Not visibly.
Not clearly.
But enough.
Enough to show—
that something was changing.
"…You don't understand…"
He whispered.
But this time—
there was no resistance.
Only fear.
"…Then let me try."
She replied.
And for the first time—
Arlen did not push her away.
His hand—
still in hers.
His presence—
no longer distant.
And his heart—
something he thought was long gone—
began to beat again.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But undeniably.
Because no matter how broken someone becomes—
no matter how far they fall—
there is always one thing that can reach them.
Not power.
Not fear.
Not destruction.
But connection.
And that connection—
was now standing in front of him.
Holding his hand.
Refusing to leave.
And the most dangerous part—
was not that she reminded him of the past.
But that she made him want—
a future.