Private Tales Trapped Inside One's Mind

Gods, the way he froze—wide-eyed and utterly flustered. Perhaps, she had overstepped..

Katja bit the inside of her cheek, dropping her gaze as if suddenly fascinated by her bare feet. Her toes curled against the floor, and she exhaled a quiet laugh.

"Oh, I won’t..." she murmured, voice softer than she intended.

She wasn't entirely sure why she'd done it. No - that was a lie. She'd done it because he'd humoured her. Because he'd danced with her. Because he had saved her life. Because, for the first time in what felt like forever, she had company that didn’t feel like a burden to endure.

Or maybe it was just the alcohol making her bolder than she had any right to be.

She cleared her throat, expecting him to seize the excuse she'd so graciously given him—to retreat, back into rifling through Evander’s things. But then the music started again, a different song weaving through the air, and her snapped up surprise, first to the music box, and then to him.

Her brows dipped for only a moment as she took him in, and a slow, knowing smile curled at the corner of her lips.

"It appears so..." she murmured, tucking a stray tress of hair behind her ear.

And then, a little more shyly than before, she closed the distance between them, lifting her hand in invitation.

"I suppose, if the music insists.."

Katja’s fingers curled around his as he took her hand, and though she tried to act as though it were nothing, her heart gave an entirely traitorous little flutter.

She tilted her head at his reasoning. That was the excuse he went with? She bit back a smirk.

"Mhmm," she hummed, amusement warm in her eyes. "Very logical.." she teased, stepping in closer as he settled his other hand at her waist.

This time was different.

The tension that had held him so rigid before had melted, leaving behind something looser, something freer. He still wasn’t graceful, exactly, but there was something endearing in the way he moved now—clumsy, unguarded, and smiling.

That smile. She had seen him smirk, had seen him scoff.. But this one was something else entirely. And she was selfish enough to want to keep it.

Her grip on his hand eased, her fingers lacing lightly through his. Her other hand drifted upward, settling gently against his shoulder as they swayed through the shifting candlelight. She hadn’t realised just how close they had become, or maybe she had and was only pretending she didn’t.

A slow breath left her, the last remnants of hesitation slipping away with it, and she let herself tip forward, resting her head lightly against his shoulder.

The steady rise and fall of his breath beneath her cheek was soothing, his warmth a quiet comfort, and gods, she should pull away. She should laugh this off, blame the alcohol and tease him about his footwork or say something to make it less... whatever this was.

But she didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes for just a moment longer, letting the music and the gentle cadence of their movements lull her into something dangerously close to contentment as her hand slipped slightly, and her fingertips gently tapped the rhythm of the music against his chest.

Time slipped away, unnoticed and unimportant, as they swayed together in the quiet embrace of the music. There was no urgency, no expectation—only warmth, only presence. She had never had such presence. The world outside her own little bubble might as well have ceased to exist.

Katja barely noticed when the music came to an end. Even in the silence, they lingered, the ghost of the melody still twining around them. She should move. She knew that. But his shoulder had proven a terribly comfortable resting place, and she wasn’t quite ready to let go. Not yet.

Her breath was slow and even, her head still nestled lightly against the fabric of his collar. A part of her wished she could press pause—keep this moment, just as it was, for a little longer. But, eventually, reality came creeping back in.

With a quiet inhale, she lifted her head, blinking up at him. Her eyes, still glassy with the remnants of wine and warmth, shone faintly in the dim light, something unreadable flickering behind them.

She hesitated.

Something in her chest ached to tell him—to say something that might begin to describe how much this night, this moment, meant to her. But every word that came to mind felt wrong. Too much or not enough.

She studied him, searching, as if the answer might somehow be found in the soft planes of his face.

For a fraction of a second, she almost dared.

Then—no.

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed against it. The worst possible outcome flashed unbidden through her mind, and the courage she'd barely begun to gather scattered like ash on the wind.

Pitiful. Pathetic girl.

So, instead, she mustered a lazy smile, letting the moment slip between her fingers before she could do anything reckless.

"Thank you...Again..." she murmured, voice softer now, like some part of her still wasn’t quite ready to break away. A pause, then a quiet, breathy laugh. "I should probably sit down for a bit and let you get on with it."