As I awaken, my body jolts with an abruptness that sends a shiver down my spine, a lingering residue of panic clinging to my senses. The memory of a chilling dream lingers, tightening my chest with an icy grip, making it difficult to draw in even the faintest breath. The world around me feels too dark, too suffocating.

A hand clamps down over my mouth and nose, warm and stifling. Where before I raked in short bursts of air, I cannot get a single sip in now. I actually can't breathe. The edges of my vision are shaking, and the world is spinning. His hand is hot against my mouth, and I can't fucking breathe, Elias. My teeth sink into his hand, and I hear him suck in air through his teeth with a sharp sound.

"Did you just bite me?" The incredulous raise in his pitch breaks through the haze. I scramble to put some distance between the two of us, but the bed sheet catches on my ankle, sending me tumbling to the ground with a heavy thunk.

"You were suffocating me!" I manage to gasp out, my voice strained and desperate.

"You were having an attack. I was trying to help," his voice grows closer, tinged with concern. I find myself on hands and knees, dragging myself away from the bed, seeking refuge against the wall, pulling my knees into my chest.

"By killing me?" I retort, my breath scrapes against my throat as I swallow in gulps of air.

"It helped, didn't it?" He is sliding out of bed, following me with slow movements. Just because it worked doesn't mean it was the best solution. Just because something fits well together doesn't mean it ought to. Maybe, this is all pointless. Maybe, we shouldn't be like this.

"Well, maybe, but, how did you even–" I begin, confusion mingling with the fear still coursing through my veins. I scratch absentmindedly at the back of my hand. My skin aches with the memory of the past. Things are foggy and muddled right now.

"Educated guess," comes the calm reply, offering some semblance of explanation amidst the chaos. Educated. Yeah, he is educated. I'm not. It's silly and stupid of me to feel this way, especially around someone like him.

"I was scared, Elias," I admit, the fear and vulnerability seeping into my voice. My hand stings with the scratches. Shit. What am I doing? What are we doing?

"I know. I see that. You know that I wouldn't do that, right?" Elias reassures, his voice gentle yet firm. He is even closer, his hands finding mine, prying them apart. He grips them tight, but this grasp is different than the smothering one. The roaring of my blood in my ears has faded.

"I mean I tried to in the past." He rubs circles over the backs of my hands, the skin there is raw and sensitive. The sting of my own actions is cooled by the pressure of his thumb. I am a bit crazy, huh. I guess I can't be mad at him for not choosing the best course of action. I haven't exactly been perfect.

"You didn't then, and I am not doing that now. It's okay, Helen," Elias reassures, his words a balm, easing the ache of old wounds. Right, we're like, a thing now. I guess I forgot. Sometimes, when I wake up, it takes a moment for me to catch myself back up to the now. I know that he cares, that he wouldn't really do that. I know he's just sort of bad at this, that we both are, but it's a reminder that these things take work.

"Elias, can I ask you something?" I venture, uncertainty burning at the edges of my words.

"Anytime," Elias responds, his voice soft yet unwavering. His hair is a mess, and it is another reminder that I am the only one that gets to see him like this. He has seated himself on the floor with some distance between us, only grasping my hands.

"What do you see in me?"

"Nobody can see me the way you do," Elias replies, his words carrying a depth of sincerity that catches me off guard.

"Makes sense. Nobody watches you like I do," I concede, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite the lingering unease.

"I adore you," Elias declares, his words ringing with a sincerity that sends a flutter through my chest.

"I–uhm, fuck, you too. God, you can't just say that out of nowhere. Elias, stop! Don't look at me, god, this is embarrassing. Shitshit. I am so sorry," I stammer, embarrassment flooding my cheeks as I recoil from his gaze.

"Relax, dearest," Elias soothes, his laughter a warm reassurance amidst the chaos of emotions swirling between us. It's a reminder that we're both stumbling through this, navigating the complexities of our connection with equal parts awkwardness and authenticity. He pulls me into him. He always knows. Ah, you really do know me so well. He combs a hand through my hair, the other arm securing me to him. My chest overflows with warmth. How could I ever think that we weren't meant to be like this?

I can hear him taking slow deliberate breaths, and it is easier to match myself to him. I could be like this forever.

"You did not hold back, this is going to leave a mark." I lean back and take his hand in mine, turning it over so I can examine him.

"I panicked, okay!" I can definitely make out some of my teeth. I feel a little bad about that.

"You can make it up to me by letting me make coffee this morning." I bestow a kiss to his hand, and he scoffs, and slides me off him, rising to his feet.

"Sigh, I guess," I raise my voice dramatically as I answer, but honestly, I am relieved. I wish I wasn't so bad at everything. I don't think I could stand to make him a shitty cup of coffee and watch him drink it again.

"Shut up, don't be like that. You're perfectly perfect. Go wash up and come down. I'll show you how to." He is quick to leave me in search of something to wear. I watch him as he throws on a new shirt. I watch the movements of the muscles in his back flexing, shadows hugging them. I admire the shifting of his shoulders, tracing the lines. I brought clothes. Maybe I….

I blink, and he is gone. Ah, I can't help but feel insecure. As long as we're together, it will all work out I think. Even the simplest of things become complex around him, but I wouldn't give him up for a simpler life. I do not care if this is wrong. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, as I forego the clothes that I brought to dig through his closet for something.

Taking my time, I meticulously make the bed, smoothing out every wrinkle with care. I brush my teeth, showering away the remnants of sleep and uncertainty. With a sense of determination, I reach for Elias's soap, allowing the familiar scent to envelop me in its comforting embrace.

I step into the hallway, and wander downstairs, settling near the kitchen. He rests at the table with a book in hand. He closes it as I approach and offers me a small smile."Ready to learn the art of coffee-making?" Elias's voice is filled with warmth and encouragement, his eyes sparkling.

"You're being way too nice to me."

"Would you like me to be mean?" He pulls me in by the collar of my shirt, his shirt more accurately. I had changed into his clothes despite having something I could have changed into of my own. HIs grip pulls my shirt tight against my neckline.

"I don't know. I mean I like the way we are, but I'm not making you change, am I?" I like you as you are. Of course I like feeling special, but you will always be special to me. You pulled me from a nightmare with no end. You pick up when I call for you. So close, we are so close right now, fuck. I can feel the warmth of his breath.

He unbuttons the first button of my shirt, "It really does look better this way." He traces a warm finger over my now visible collarbone and then dips his head.

"I always wonder how you'll re-ACK–" He bit me! I guess an eye for an eye, but whew, that pinches. I look down to try to peek at my collarbone, but I'll need a mirror if I am going to examine myself. I can tell I am a bit red though.

He lifts his head, and his eyes have a sneaky darkness to them, lips curling into a smirk. His hands leave my collar, and I take a step into him as he takes a half-step back. "You're not just anyone. Of course we're different."

I sniff, the pinching of my skin still clear to me. "That smarts, meanie."

A chuckle located deep in his chest rises out of him, "Maybe button up on Monday, but," he lifts up his injured hand from my own ministrations and wiggles his fingers, "we're matching now." Ew, you make me wanna vomit. Absolutely gross and cute. I didn't know you could be such a sweetheart.

He shakes his head. "Enough of these distractions. Come watch me make us coffee." He laces his hand through my fingers, and leads me into the kitchen. He pats a spot on the counter, and I look at him blankly. I need more direction than this, sir.

His hands find my waist, and I suck in a breath as he lifts me up. I see. I press my palms against the counter, giving myself a boost as well, and shuffling back. As I am adjusting myself to be better situated, he backs away, opening cabinets and grabbing some things.

He motions to the metal contraption near me, "This is my grinder, it's a replication of a 20th century design. It's manual basically." He opens it with a clink and scoops some coffee beans into the basket. "I prefer to grind my coffee myself," he continues, "You can go ahead and crank that."

"Yessir!" I start turning the handle. Of course he would have a replica. I am only surprised it isn't actually an antique.

As I turn the handle of the grinder, the rhythmic motion feels oddly therapeutic, the familiar sound of grinding coffee beans filling the air with a comforting hum. Elias moves around the kitchen with practiced ease, his movements fluid and precise as he gathers the necessary ingredients for our morning brew. He sets out two cups, one is a large glass, and the other is a delicate coffee cup. He tilts my glass and turns it, giving it a ring of caramel throughout.

He measures out the freshly ground coffee with meticulous attention to detail, pouring it into a sleek glass French press. The aroma of the freshly ground beans fills the room, rich and intoxicating, awakening my senses with each inhalation.

"Next, we'll need hot water," Elias instructs, his voice a soothing melody as he fills a kettle and sets it on the stove to heat. I watch him with a mixture of admiration and fascination, marveling at his effortless skill. He can do everything.

Everything about him is so deliberate and elegant. Every motion he performs has been done many times before, and he carries himself with such an attractive air of confidence as a result. The aroma intensifies, and Elias returns to my glass, "Now we wait," he says. He puts ice in my glass, and my heart squeezes.

He pulls a shot of espresso for me. I know it is for me. He made himself coffee in a press, and he's making me a latte. Good lord, Elias, you really know how to sweep the rug out from beneath me. My stomach swoops and swirls. He presses the coffee, so he can pour his own cup

"And now we clink," he says, his voice soft with warmth as he holds out his cup to me. I lift the cup to my lips, the rich, velvety texture of the coffee enveloping my senses in a warm embrace. It's smooth and robust, with a hint of sweetness that lingers on my tongue, a testament to Elias's skill as a master coffee-maker.

As I savor the first sweet sip, I can't help but smile, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me in waves. In that moment, with Elias by my side and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, everything feels right in the world.

He sweeps the cup out of my hand, setting it down out of reach. I would protest, but he doesn't give me a chance to, closing in on me. He braces himself, leaning against the counter with a hand on either side of me. The side of his thumbs brush against my thighs. For once, I am the one looking down at him from where I am. He looks up at me in a way that makes my stomach swirl and roll. His eyelashes are long, his eyes are dark again, and his pupils are a lake of fire. "You don't ever have to feel bad about not knowing how to do something. Just ask me."

"Anything?"

"Everything."

My hands frame his face, and I pull him towards me. He shudders as my breath clings to his lips. I can smell the bitterness of his coffee in his. I lean into him, sliding off the counter, yet as I stand, I push him away.

"M'sorry. I don't know how to do this," I confess, my voice trembling. I hide my shaking hands within the sleeves of my shirt.

"I won't pretend to have it all figured out either. Honestly, you weren't part of the plan from the start," Elias admits, his gaze searching mine.

"Yeah, you neither. I actually considered the Spiral, if I'm being honest." I considered a lot of things. I considered death.

A flicker of discomfort crosses Elias's face, but he quickly recovers, his expression softening. "I never imagined you before, and now I can't imagine a future without you. Stay with me?" he implores, his voice laced with desperation and raw longing. I see so much of you that will never be shown to anyone else. The way he looked up at me earlier with yearning and such adoration was like an unspoken promise of the intertwining of our fates.

"I want nothing else," I answer. Damn the world and its suffering. Let others navigate the wreckage we leave in our wake. For in unity, we forge a path untrodden by fear or doubt, where only our devotion reigns supreme.