The memory played on repeat in my mind as I woke up and stepped out of my bedroom. The events of the previous night still lingered in my thoughts, leaving me in a state of mild shock and exhilaration. The evening had taken a turn I hadn't anticipated, one that seemed both surreal and electric.

I couldn't shake the image of Adler and me leaning against the hood of the car, the cool metal beneath us as we gave in to a magnetic pull neither of us had spoken aloud. One moment, we were simply two people sharing the night air; the next, we were caught in a whirlwind, our lips meeting in an intense, dizzying kiss under the open sky.

And then, after what felt like hours but could have been mere minutes, we found ourselves lying side by side, staring up at the infinite expanse of stars. Silence surrounded us, broken only by the soft rustle of the breeze and the unspoken tension that pulsed between us. It was heavy, palpable—charged with an energy I couldn't fully define but couldn't ignore either.

But now, in the bright light of morning, doubts crept in, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. Could I really be sure about what had passed between us? Was it just a fleeting moment, a spark that flared up only to burn out? Did Adler even want this to become something more, or had it been just a moment of impulsive connection? And, perhaps most importantly, was this what I truly wanted?

The weight of those questions pressed against me as I moved through the house, but no answers came easily. All I knew was that something undeniable had shifted between us, and I wasn't sure where it would lead—or if either of us was ready to find out.

I wandered into the kitchen, the scent of fresh coffee guiding me like a beacon. Mason was already there, seated at the worn, beige circular table. His coffee cup steamed lazily beside him, and he had a newspaper spread open, one corner folded neatly under his arm. For once, he actually looked relaxed—a rare sight for someone usually so wound up.

"Morning," he said without looking up. "There's fresh coffee in the pot."

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and shuffled to the counter, opening the cupboard and pulling out a mug. The sound of ceramic clinking against the counter felt oddly loud in the stillness.

"Thanks," I mumbled, pouring the coffee and inhaling the rich aroma. The first sip jolted my senses awake, cutting through the haze of grogginess. "The house is so quiet in the mornings," I said, stretching my arms to ease the stiffness from a restless night's sleep. "I'm going to guess Frank and Adler aren't here?"

Mason glanced up from the paper, running a hand through his dark, slightly disheveled hair. "Yeah," he confirmed, his voice casual. "Adler left early to grab breakfast. Frank went to training, as usual."

I nodded, taking another sip of my coffee as I joined him at the table. The chair creaked softly as I sat down opposite him, my mug cradled between my hands. My gaze drifted to the back of the newspaper, where a small comic strip peeked out. The bright, simple illustrations were a stark contrast to the heavier headlines I could see on the front page.

For a moment, the kitchen was filled with nothing but the soft rustling of paper and the occasional clink of Mason's spoon against his cup. It felt peaceful, unhurried—a rare reprieve from the chaos that often seemed to swirl around us.

Suddenly, my head felt light and it felt as if the world was burning down around me. 

"Don't touch me! Get the fuck off me! Please—I don't know anything! I swear!" My voice cracked as I struggled, thrashing against the man holding me down. Panic surged through me, a chaotic roar in my mind. "If someone gets those documents, we're all screwed, aren't we?"

His weight bore down on me, but with one final burst of desperation, I managed to pull myself free. Without thinking, I reached for the gun at my side, aimed low, and fired. The sound was deafening. The man crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach. I didn't wait to see if he'd get back up—I grabbed the yellow papers and bolted, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest.

Everything after that was a blur. My head spun wildly, and the world around me seemed to tilt. It felt like gravity had given up on me—I was floating, weightless, disoriented. Time twisted, stretching and snapping as if it couldn't decide whether to speed up or slow down.

"Bell?" A voice cut through the haze, sharp and concerned.

"What?" I blinked hard, trying to focus. Mason's face hovered over me, his expression tense and alarmed. My head throbbed with a pulsing ache, and sweat poured down my face in rivulets. I could barely catch my breath.

"What happened?" Mason's voice softened, his hand gripping mine firmly. "Your eyes are moving like clockwork. Just breathe, okay? Tell me what's going on."

But I couldn't. My stomach churned, nausea rising in a relentless wave. I pulled my hand away, stumbling toward the bathroom as bile climbed my throat.

"Ah, fuck this shit," I groaned as I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, clutching the cold porcelain for dear life. My entire body trembled as I heaved, the stress and adrenaline spilling out in fits of dry sobs and retches.

Outside the bathroom door, Mason stood quietly, waiting. He didn't knock or say anything. He just stayed there, a silent presence that anchored me even as my world spun out of control.

"Hey, are you okay?" Mason's voice was gentle but laced with concern as he peeked his head around the bathroom door, his dark eyes scanning me carefully.

I nodded weakly, though I wasn't sure I believed it myself. "I think so," I murmured, wiping the sweat from my forehead with a trembling hand.

Without a word, Mason stepped in and handed me a glass of water. I sipped it slowly, the coolness easing the dryness in my throat. After a moment, I stood and shuffled back to the kitchen, lowering myself into a chair at the table. My legs still felt like jelly, but I tried to steady my breathing and focus.

I didn't even have a chance to settle before the front door swung open, and Adler strolled in, two paper bags in his hands and a grin on his face.

"Morning, everyone," he announced brightly, his voice breaking through the tension in the room. "Breakfast is here—pick and poke at whatever you want."

He dropped the bags on the counter, the smell of pastries and coffee filling the air, but his cheerful demeanor faltered the second his eyes landed on me. His expression shifted, his brows knitting together in a mix of worry and confusion as he took in my pale face and the way I clung to the edge of the table for support.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone quieter now, more cautious.

I couldn't meet his gaze. My head was still spinning, and the nausea lingered just beneath the surface. "I'm fine," I said softly, though the words felt unconvincing even to me.

Adler didn't move for a moment, as if debating whether to press further. I could feel Mason's watchful presence nearby, his tension palpable. The room was heavy with unspoken concern, but I didn't have the energy to address it. All I could do was sit there, trying to breathe through the haze of exhaustion and lingering fear.

"Mason, what happened?" Adler's voice was steady but edged with worry as he crossed the room to where I sat. He crouched down beside me, his face close, searching mine for answers. His hand found mine, squeezing gently, as if trying to ground me. It felt like he wasn't entirely sure whether asking was the right move or if he should just wait for me to speak.

I forced a faint smile, though my chest felt tight, and my head still hadn't completely stopped spinning. "I'm okay," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "I just had a bit of a dizzy spell, that's all."

Adler didn't look entirely convinced, his hand lingering on mine a moment longer. I glanced up at Mason, catching his gaze. I gave him a look—one I hoped screamed that I needed to talk to him alone.

Mason's expression was calm, unreadable as usual, but his slight nod told me he understood. Adler caught the exchange and leaned back on his heels, exhaling as he looked between us.

"All right," Adler said finally, his voice hesitant. He pushed himself to his feet, brushing invisible crumbs off his jeans. His eyes flicked back to me once more, a mix of concern and curiosity, but he didn't press. Instead, he gave Mason a small nod, as if silently entrusting him with whatever this was.

The weight in the room didn't lift, but at least it stopped pressing so hard.

-----

I was sitting cross-legged in my room when I heard a soft knock at the door.

"Can I come in, love?" Park's voice called out, her accent warm and lilting. It tugged a small smile from me, her endearing way of speaking always managing to lift my spirits just a little.

"Door's open," I replied, pressing the stop button on my Walkman, cutting off the mellow hum of Pink Floyd mid-track. Spinning my chair around, I faced her as she stepped into the room.

Park took a deep breath and perched on the edge of my unmade bed, her gaze sweeping over the chaos of my room. Clothes were scattered everywhere, a pile slumped against the chair in the corner, and my boots lay sideways on the floor, their laces a tangled mess.

"Russ says you're not yourself," she said, her tone soft but edged with quiet concern. "Is he wrong?"

I rolled my eyes, letting out a small huff as I turned my attention back to the paperwork spread across my desk. "He isn't wrong," I admitted, my pen dragging across the page a little harder than I intended. "I think I'm just tired, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

Park's lips quirked into a faint smile, but her eyes still held a trace of worry. She stood and crossed the room, her boots barely making a sound against the floor. Resting a hand on my shoulder, she gave it a gentle squeeze.

"If you need anything, I'm here, Bell," she said quietly, her voice full of reassurance.

I paused, letting her words sink in before offering a small nod. "Thank you, Park," I murmured, glancing up to meet her gaze.

She held my eyes for a moment, her expression kind and unwavering, before turning to leave. As the door clicked shut behind her, I let out a long breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, the room settling into silence again.

----

That night, Frank, Mason, and I found ourselves perched on the bar stools, laughing and chatting as we nursed beers. The goal had been simple: enjoy the night, unwind a little, and get home before anyone had too much to drink. But by Frank's fourth round, he was already making his way to the dance floor, moving with an enthusiasm that only he could muster.

"I don't know how this happens so quickly," I said, shaking my head with a grin as I watched him attempt some questionable moves. "Man never listens."

Mason chuckled, the sound warm and easy as he lifted his beer. "Nope, not even once." He took a sip, his eyes flicking from Frank's antics back to me. For a moment, his expression softened, his usual calm demeanour giving way to something more thoughtful.

He set his beer down on the counter and turned toward me slightly. "Do you wanna tell me about your episode this morning?" he asked, his voice low enough to keep it between us. "It worried me."

I hesitated, caught off guard by his concern. The urge to brush it off was strong, but the sincerity in his gaze made me pause. I gave him a small, reassuring smile, trying to ease the weight of his worry.

"I'm fine," I said gently, though I knew it wasn't the full truth. "Really, Mason. It was just a moment—stress, maybe. Nothing to lose sleep over."

Mason didn't look convinced. He tilted his head slightly, studying me like he was trying to piece something together. But he didn't push. Instead, he nodded and let out a soft hum, his fingers tapping lightly on the side of his glass.

"Okay," he said finally. "But if it's not nothing, you'll tell me, right?"

I nodded, grateful for the way Mason didn't press, even as his concern lingered in the air between us. Reaching into my coat pocket, I pulled out a slightly crumpled packet of cigarettes. My fingertips rolled over one of the buds as I slid it out and placed it between my lips. "Sure, but there's no need to worry," I said, my voice low. "It just... tends to hit me out of nowhere."

Mason gave a slight nod, though the look in his eyes told me he wasn't entirely convinced. For now, though, we turned our attention back to Frank, who was attempting what could only be described as a drunken spin move on the dancefloor. We both winced as he narrowly avoided colliding with a table, then burst into laughter as he carried on like nothing had happened.

I struck a match, lit the cigarette, and took a sharp inhale, the smoke curling around my face as I exhaled into the air. My eyes flicked back to Mason, his curious gaze still lingering. "I was captured by these men," I began, my voice flat but steady. "I can't remember much about them, but they had these documents I badly fucking needed."

Mason straightened slightly in his seat, his attention sharpening. His beer sat forgotten on the counter as he listened. I glanced toward Frank, who now had two women clinging to him like ivy on a wall. The sight made me chuckle under my breath, the absurdity of it briefly cutting through the tension. Mason smirked faintly, but his eyes remained fixed on me, waiting for more.

"It's still hazy," I continued, tapping the ash from my cigarette into the tray. "I shot one of them and managed to get away with the yellow papers. I don't even know what the hell's on them—just that they were important enough to kill for. I'm sure it'll all link up at some point,"

When I looked back at Mason, his expression was impossible to miss. His brows were raised, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes practically screamed, What the fuck?

I couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking my head as I took another drag from the cigarette. "Yeah, I know," I said, almost amused by his reaction. "It's a lot. Believe me, I'm still trying to make sense of it myself."

Mason didn't say anything immediately, his gaze narrowing slightly as if weighing his next words carefully. For the moment, though, he simply leaned back and let out a long exhale, his smirk returning faintly. "You're a piece of work, Bell," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't I know it." I replied with a half-smile, stubbing out the cigarette. 

"I wanna get home. I'm tired, and you look like you are too," Mason said, pulling a few bills from his wallet and dropping them on the counter. He pushed his chair back with a soft scrape and stood, stretching slightly.

I nodded, grabbing my jacket and slinging it over my arm. "I am," I admitted. "Plus, while I was eating earlier, Russ popped in and said he wanted to talk to me about something."

Mason gave a small nod of acknowledgment as we made our way toward the dancefloor to collect Frank. Predictably, he wasn't ready to leave.

"Come on, man, I was having a good time!" Frank protested, his voice slurred just enough to give away the drinks he'd downed. He turned to the two women hanging on his arms. "Sorry, girls," he added with a dramatic sigh.

Mason rolled his eyes as Frank reluctantly followed us toward the exit. I couldn't help but laugh at how childishly sulky Frank got when he was tipsy, like a teenager whose night was cut short.

The walk back to the house was uneventful, the crisp night air doing little to sober Frank, who continued to grumble under his breath. When we finally arrived, the porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the front steps. Sitting on the bench just to the side of the door was Adler, a cigarette smouldering between his fingers and a glass of scotch in his other hand. A single cube of ice clinked softly as he swirled the amber liquid.

His expression was unreadable, his features sharp and cold under the porch light. The way he sat—rigid, commanding—made him look almost unapproachable, like a statue carved from ice. There was an edge to him tonight, something in his posture and his silence that felt faintly threatening, though not in a way that seemed directed at us.

"He's looking you, Bell."

"Go on in, Mason. I'll be fine." I smiled walking towards Adler and his tense face immediately softened up.

"Evening," he said, his voice low and gravelly as his eyes flicked briefly over the three of us. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling a thin plume of smoke into the night air before taking a sip of his scotch.

"Hey, Adler," I said cautiously, unsure if he was in one of his brooding moods or just needed the solitude. Mason gave him a nod as we passed, and Frank—still tipsy—muttered something unintelligible before stumbling inside.

Adler's gaze lingered on me a moment longer than felt comfortable, his eyes quiet and intense. He didn't speak, and the silence hung between us like a thick fog. I stood there, torn—part of me wanted to ask if he was okay, to try and break the tension, but something about his stillness told me he was working through something on his own.

In the end, I decided to step inside, but as I turned to close the door, I saw that Adler hadn't moved an inch. He was still watching me, unblinking, like he was waiting for something. I hesitated for a second before stepping back outside, quietly closing the door behind me. Leaning against the wooden patio railing, I let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the feeling that something unspoken was hanging between us.

Russell was sitting still, his patterned shirt fitting him effortlessly, hugging his arms and waist comfortably against his tanned skin. The heat of the day had carried into the night, making everything feel a little heavier, like the air itself was pressing in. His hair, effortlessly styled as always, fell perfectly around his face, and his eyes met mine with an intensity that made my heart skip.

"Did Frank just get drunk again?" Adler's voice cut through the stillness, the question dripping with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He sighed, a small laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

I couldn't help but smile, passing him a knowing nod. "Yeah, seems like it." I chuckled and slid onto the bench beside him.

The small yellow light above us bathed the scene in a warm glow, casting soft shadows on our faces. As the night stretched on, the air cooled, and the stars above us began to twinkle in the clear sky, their brilliance making everything feel almost magical, like the world had stopped moving for just a moment.

We sat in quiet companionship, the sound of the crickets and the distant hum of the night air filling the space between us. The sky, the light, the stillness—it was beautiful. We didn't need to say anything. We could just exist, letting the stars and the warmth of the moment carry us through.

"I feel like I've hardly seen you today," I murmured, my head finding its way to his shoulder as I leaned gently into him. The closeness felt good, but also overwhelming. Every time I thought about him, my heart raced, pounding harder than usual. I wanted him, needed him, and feeling this way made me feel too attached, like I was walking a fine line. But who could blame me? His smile was everything, his laugh contagious, and his lips—soft in a way that left a permanent impression.

"I've been busy, Bell," Russell replied, his voice steady, but soft. His arm moved around my shoulders, pulling me closer as his hand found mine, lacing our fingers together. "Just sit here with me and enjoy the silence."

We both relaxed into the stillness, the only sounds the gentle hum of insects in the grass and the distant murmur of the city. It felt peaceful, like the world was paused for just a moment. But even in the quiet, there was something in the air between us—an undercurrent of affection that ran deep, like a current beneath the surface, powerful and constant.

Still, no matter how close we were, there was this strange feeling, like we were miles away from each other at times. His warmth, the way he felt against me, was something I craved, something I couldn't seem to get enough of.

"What's this between us?" I asked quietly, my voice tinged with curiosity and uncertainty. It was a question that had lingered in the back of my mind for so long, one I had tried to ignore, but it always seemed to resurface, pulling me into its depths.

Russell's fingers tightened slightly around mine as he let out a soft sigh. He turned his head, his gaze focused on the horizon as if searching for something out there. "Let it flow," he said slowly, his words deliberate and careful. "We'll take it slow and see where it leads us. You know I have feelings for you. Damn it, Bell, I've had them since the day you walked straight into me. The day you were shy, quiet, and didn't know what to say. The day you were stabbed, and I didn't know you, but something felt right about it,"

His voice softened as he spoke, the words laced with something deeper, something that felt raw and unspoken. He paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "I can't explain it. I want to, but I don't know how. I know I said we'd figure this out when you knew more about everything, but I can't help it. I care about you, Bell. I can't just turn that off."

The air between us grew thick with his confession, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. My heart hammered in my chest, and I found myself searching his face, trying to decipher the emotions behind his eyes. There was no rush, no pressure, just the weight of his words hanging in the air.

I squeezed his hand tighter, a quiet reassurance that I was there, just as lost in this as he was. "We'll figure it out, Russell," I whispered, leaning into him a little more. "Together."

I didn't say anything more, not because I didn't want to, but because I wasn't sure what to say. Russell's arm around me felt heavy, but not in the way I needed it to. There was warmth there, sure, but it was faint, like something just out of reach, slipping through my fingers before I could fully grasp it.

The night air had gotten colder now, creeping in and making the skin on my arms prick with goosebumps. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the chill in the air and in the space between us, as if everything that had been said, all the emotions we'd shared in this silence, had been frozen in place. My heart was still racing, but not with excitement—more like anxiety, like I was waiting for something to break.

I glanced at Russell, his jaw set tight, eyes distant and unreadable. It was like he was here, physically, but not fully present. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, just as mine was. I wanted to reach for him, to bridge the gap, but I was too afraid of what I might find if I did. What if this was all just a temporary thing? What if I was reading too much into everything?

"Russ," I whispered, the sound of his name like an unfamiliar word on my tongue. It felt cold. Unsettling. "What happens now?"

He didn't answer right away, and when he did, his voice was distant, almost too calm. "We keep going. One step at a time."

But something in his words didn't feel right. It wasn't the reassurance I was hoping for. It felt like a wall had gone up between us, and I was left standing on the other side of it, unsure of how to break through.

His hand tightened around mine, but it didn't bring the comfort I needed. It was possessive, almost desperate, but there was an edge to it, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me that everything would be fine.

The night felt endless. The stars, once beautiful, now seemed like cold, distant watchers in the sky, too far away to offer any kind of comfort. I felt small under their gaze. And in that moment, all I wanted was for everything to just make sense.

Russell didn't look at me. He just stared out into the distance, his gaze cold and distant, as if he was staring straight through the world itself. The silence between us felt oppressive now, too heavy to bear, and the fear in my chest began to rise.

It wasn't just the cold air. It was the fear of what might come next, of what this all meant. It was a fear I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried. And with that fear, came the coldness. Not just from the night, but from him. 

I exhaled slowly, pulling my jacket tighter around my shoulders. "You're not really here, are you?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Russell's gaze flickered toward me for a brief second, but he didn't answer. He didn't need to. His silence said everything.

He was trying to hold onto something. "I'm afraid Bell. Afraid that you'll get hurt, afraid if you can't remember anything, or Stitch finishes the job he tried to start. I can't let that happen." His voice was breaking, he seemed like he was breaking. 

The words shuttered through me like broken glass. "We can't worry about that. I have you all protecting me, I don't think he'll get to finish me." 

His eyes softened as they studied my face, every line, every expression, like he was trying to read me, understand something I couldn't say. I felt the weight of his gaze, felt the tension between us grow as his hand loosened from mine and slid gently to the side of my face. The touch was light, almost tender, but it didn't settle the storm in me. It only made it more real—the distance that still lingered, that fragile thread connecting us, stretched thin by unspoken fears.

His thumb brushed over my cheek, the gesture soft but laden with something I couldn't name. Comfort? Reassurance? Or was it just a way to hold onto something—anything—when everything felt like it could slip away?

"One step at a time, Bell. I got you, we all do."

His voice was low, steady, but it didn't have the strength I needed. There was a fear in it, something I couldn't ignore, something that echoed in my chest. But it was the best he could offer. It was all any of us could offer. And somehow, it had to be enough.

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything more. The words felt stuck in my throat, tangled in the chaos inside me. His words hung in the air, heavy and uncertain, like a fragile thread holding us together. I wasn't sure if it was enough to keep me grounded, but for now, it was all I had.

I drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. The world around us felt colder now, the night deepening, pressing in. The dark felt suffocating, like it was closing in around us. But through that darkness, there was a sliver of light, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find a way forward—together.

Through darkest dark, I was pushing through.

I wasn't sure where that road would lead, but I had no choice but to take the first step. One step at a time. Because that was the only thing I could do.