The ceiling felt closer than usual as I blinked my eyes open, the dull ache in my head making itself known the moment consciousness returned. My body was stiff from sleeping on the couch, my skin clammy with sweat. I groaned, rubbing my temples as I shifted to sit up, my limbs protesting at the sudden movement.

The world outside the window was still dark, the streetlights casting elongated shadows across my apartment. I reached for my phone, squinting against the glow of the screen.

4:00 AM.

The night was still young, yet my body felt like it had already endured an entire day's worth of exhaustion.

My notifications were endless news alerts, wedding planners, work emails, a few messages from my father, and—

I froze.

Five missed calls from Keith.

My breath hitched as I hesitated before opening the message thread.

I was talking, Vienna. I was trying to do what you and I had wanted. Why would you cut the call on my face?

Hey?

Where are you?

What exactly is wrong with you?

Listen, we could talk. I might have been too fast without thinking about the consequences.

Vienna?

My eyes traced over the messages, each word pressing down on my already fragile heart.

Now he wanted to talk?

Now he realized he might have acted too fast?

Now, after days of silence, after brushing me aside, after being mean to me, after dismissing me like I was nothing, he wanted to talk?

I let out a hollow chuckle, shaking my head as I marked the messages unread and tossed my phone to the side, the weight in my chest growing unbearable.

Keith Devlin was a contradiction I could never keep up with.

"Sometimes you want me and sometimes you don't. Sometimes you feel my absence and sometimes you don't even care about my existence. Even if I like you, I know when I need you to be around and when I don't Mr. Keith Devlin," I whispered to no one in particular as I put my hand on my forehead covering my eyes.

I let him affect me. I let his words dictate my emotions. I let his actions hold more weight than they should.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, an unwelcome betrayal of my resolve. A warm tear slipped down my cheek, followed by another. Even if I didn't want to care, even if I told myself I was done, my heart had already betrayed me. And he would never know just how much he had affected me.

A shrill ringing pulled me out of my restless slumber, the sound grating against my already pounding headache. My eyelids fluttered open, my body feeling like dead weight against the couch. Every muscle ached, and the moment I shifted to sit up, a nauseating wave crashed over me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing hard as a bitter taste rose in my throat. My skin felt damp with sweat, my body burning as if I were caught in a fevered daze. The ringing persisted, accompanied now by a firm knocking against the door.

I groaned, forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths, trying to grasp onto some sense of control over my body. It didn't work. My breathing grew ragged, my pulse unsteady.

Another knock. Louder this time.

With immense effort, I pushed myself up, my legs shaky beneath me as I made my way to the door. Every step felt like dragging iron chains, but I managed to reach it, my fingers fumbling with the handle.

I pulled it open, blinking against the morning light that poured in from the hallway.

Keith.

His sharp blue eyes locked onto mine, his gaze unreadable as he adjusted his glasses with one hand. He looked effortlessly composed, his usual pristine attire in place, as if he hadn't just been hammering at my door like a madman.

"Why didn't you answer my calls or messages?" His voice was edged with irritation, his jaw tightening as he studied my face.

I frowned, my mind sluggish as I tried to process his words. "What time is it?"

Keith exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed. "Seven in the morning." His gaze roamed over me, his brows drawing together. "Why do you look so out of breath?"

I shut my eyes for a second, pressing my fingers against my temple. "Keith, I really don't have the energy for a conversation this early. Please, just go."

He scoffed. "Not until you—"

Before he could finish, I pushed the door shut with what little strength I had left, leaning my weight against it, my breaths coming uneven.

I sighed, my body already giving up on me again when—

"Vienna."

My heart lurched.

I turned, my mind scrambling for a reasonable explanation, but there he was.

Keith stood in the middle of my living room, completely unaffected, his expression impassive.

A startled squeak left my lips as I took a step back, my fingers clutching my chest. "You—"

"You forgot," he said, his voice so nonchalant, his head tilting slightly. "No door can stop me."

I narrowed my eyes, realization dawning. "You teleported?"

He shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You left me no choice."

"You are not welcome here. Please leave."

"Not until you answer my questions."

"Kei—"

"Why are you sweating?"

Before I could step away, he was already in front of me, his hand pressing against my forehead. His fingers were cold, a stark contrast to the unbearable heat radiating from my skin.

His eyes widened, the irritation in them instantly replaced with something I didn't expect—genuine concern.

"You're burning up," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I let out a weak chuckle, my limbs feeling heavier by the second. "I know. That's why I told you I don't have the energy to fight. I'm not well, Keith. Please, just leave."

His jaw clenched. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why are you alone?"

His sudden concern threw me off. For days, he had been cold, distant, dismissive. And now, he cared?

I opened my mouth, prepared to tell him off for barging into my home using his ridiculous powers, but the world tilted violently. The walls spun, the ground seemed to shift beneath me, and my knees buckled.

Keith moved faster than my failing body, his arms wrapping around me before I hit the floor.

His voice was the last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me whole.

"Vienna!"

A soft hum surrounded me, distant and warm, like waves crashing onto the shore. My body felt weightless, my limbs heavy yet comforted by something solid beneath me. The scent of something familiar clung to the air clean linen, a hint of cologne, and something unmistakably Keith.

My eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing I saw was light a soft, golden glow filtering through unfamiliar curtains. I wasn't on my couch. I wasn't even in my living room.

I was in my bed.

The moment I stirred, a hand pressed gently against my forehead.

"You're awake."

Keith's voice.

I turned my head slightly, my vision still blurred around the edges, but there he was. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, his blue eyes focused on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. He wasn't wearing his glasses now, and his hair was slightly disheveled, like he had run his fingers through it one too many times.

He looked... worried.

Keith Devlin was worried.

"You passed out," he said simply, his voice smooth yet firm, like he was stating an inconvenient fact rather than expressing concern. "You were burning up, Vienna. Do you even realize how high your fever is?"

I blinked, my mind still catching up. "You... put me in bed?"

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching slightly. "Where else was I supposed to put you? The floor?"

A weak laugh escaped me, but it quickly dissolved into a cough. He reached for a glass of water from the nightstand, holding it out for me. When I struggled to lift my hand, he sighed, shaking his head before effortlessly slipping an arm beneath my shoulders and lifting me slightly.

I stiffened at the sudden touch.

He was holding me in place, touching me.

And worse? He didn't seem to care. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His hand was firm yet gentle against my back, his grip steady as he brought the glass to my lips. "Drink," he ordered, his voice softer this time.

I obeyed, taking small sips, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. The moment I was done, he eased me back against the pillows, setting the glass aside.

I couldn't take my eyes off him.

Why am I so touched?

Keith wasn't just standing there, throwing snide remarks or looking at me like I was a mere inconvenience. He was here, in my space, looking at me with something that almost felt like... care.

And I hated how much I liked it.

"I don't get it," I murmured, my voice hoarse.

He exhaled sharply. "What?"

"This." I gestured weakly between us. "You. Here. Taking care of me. You never cared before."

Something flickered in his gaze, but it was gone before I could name it.

"I don't like dealing with sick people," he admitted, leaning back slightly, his fingers tapping against his knee. "They're needy. And clingy. And annoying."

I scoffed. "Wow. Thanks."

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. "But you looked ready to collapse, and even I have limits. Watching you crumble like that was... unpleasant."

I stared at him, trying to decipher his words, but his expression was unreadable, as always.

"Whatever, thank you for caring for me. You can leave. You don't have to care for a sick pers-"

"Vienna, I was just kidding. Relax!" 

"I can never understand when you are kidding and when you are not! Understand you is like researching," I complained settling back on my spot when he reached forward, his face so close to mine.

"Do you have a desire to understand me?" he whispered and this time I saw a sly smirk on his face but it was gone before I could comprehend it. 

His face blurred as exhaustion tugged at my body, yet my mind refused to settle. My skin was still hot, my breathing still uneven, but the fever wasn't the only thing making my pulse unsteady.

It was him.

Keith Devlin, sitting on the chair beside my bed, his presence so heavy it was suffocating.

"You wish," I told him as I slept on my bed but I could feel my heartbeat rising. 

I kept my eyes shut, but I wasn't asleep. I was hyper-aware of every small movement he made, the way the air shifted when he leaned forward, the almost imperceptible sound of his breathing.

And the weight of his stare.

It burned against my skin, tracing over my features as if committing them to memory. My lips parted slightly, my heart hammering.

Was he staring at me?

I waited, counted the seconds, let the moment stretch between us.

And then, as if sensing that I was too close to catching him in the act, he shifted. I forced myself to blink slowly, feigning sleep as I cracked my eyes open just enough to see him.

He was looking away, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee, his jaw clenched.

Am I thinking too much?

Keith's entire frame was taut, like he was restraining himself from something, his body wound tight with an energy I couldn't decipher.

My stomach fluttered, an unwelcome, frustrating reaction. I should have ignored it. Should have let it pass like every other confusing moment with him.

But I couldn't.

Not when my body betrayed me, heating up for a reason that had nothing to do with my fever.

"You're staring," I murmured, my voice hoarse yet quiet enough to almost be swallowed by the silence.

Keith stilled.

It was only for a second, but I caught it. The way his fingers stopped tapping. The way his breath hitched ever so slightly.

"You're delusional," he finally muttered, his voice smooth, detached.

A smirk tugged at my lips, though I didn't have the strength to hold it for long. "Am I?"

His eyes flickered to mine, and for a fraction of a second, something darker flashed through them. Something unspoken. Something that sent a shiver down my spine. It was gone before I could name it.

Keith leaned back, exhaling as he raked a hand through his hair. 

"Go to sleep, Vienna."

But he didn't deny me this time.