"I'm sorry," he murmured again, his voice husky and low, weighed down by regret. "I got carried away... I shouldn't have... I..." His words faded into silence, lost somewhere between guilt and longing, as his fingers continued to gently stroke my hair-soft and rhythmic-like he couldn't bring himself to let go just yet.

The air between us hung heavy, dense with emotion. Nothing but my shallow, uneven breaths echoed in the dimly lit room. It felt like time itself had paused, trapping us inside a fragile moment neither of us wanted to end... but both knew couldn't last.

Eventually, his voice came again, softer this time-almost a whisper. "We... we should probably..." He hesitated, not finishing his sentence, like speaking the words would shatter everything holding us together.

"...Yes," I exhaled, my voice thick. "We should part ways..."

He flinched as if my words struck him deep, his arms instinctively tightening around me. His warmth enveloped me, his body still flush against mine like he was clinging to the final seconds of something he couldn't bear to lose.

"I... I don't want to let you go," he whispered, the pain raw in his voice. His fingers threaded through my hair once more, trembling slightly. "Not yet..."

Suddenly, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Approaching quickly. My heart skipped. Panic bloomed in my chest.

His council members.

I stiffened in his hold, and so did he.

"They're coming," I whispered, barely audible. His grip on me tightened protectively, his body rigid with tension.

"Seems like I'm getting caught in the end..." I muttered under my breath, the corners of my lips tugging into a wry, defeated smile. "Figures."

He didn't speak. Just held onto me tighter, like his arms alone could shield me from being exposed. But we both knew there was no escape-the sound of shoes against the polished floor grew louder with every step.

The voice outside began to call his name. My heart pounded against my ribs, and the urge to run-or disappear-rushed over me. But there was nowhere to go.

I whispered urgently, "Just hand me over to the council... Say you caught the spy. You'll be fine. This'll all be over."

He jerked back slightly, his brows drawn together in pain, as if the thought of betraying me tore at something inside him.

"No... I... I can't," he whispered fiercely. "I won't."

"Why not?" I asked, my voice tight. "It's the truth. You did catch me. I won't get far anyway. Once they walk in and turn on the lights, they'll see me. There's nowhere to hide here. I'm doomed either way."

His eyes fluttered shut, jaw clenched. His arms never loosened.

The footsteps now stopped right outside the door. My breath caught. I could already see the flicker of light under the door. He had seconds.

Isaiah suddenly pulled back slightly, his blue eyes focused and sharp, like he was piecing together something-fast.

"From this point on," he murmured, "don't move. Don't speak. Don't turn around. Let them not see your face. I'll handle the rest."

Before I could question him, his hand gently cupped the back of my head and pressed my face into his shoulder, cradling me in a tight, secure embrace. His scent surrounded me. Clean, comforting, with a faint hint of cologne.

"What exactly are you doing?" I whispered, confused, my lips brushing against the fabric of his shirt. "What are you going to tell them when they see us like this?"

He lowered his head close to my ear, his breath warm. "Shhh. Just be still. Don't move. Don't make a sound."

The door creaked open.

"Isaiah, what are-oh."

A voice cut through the air, startled.

Elijah. The Vice president.

Isaiah's entire body tensed but remained unmoving, holding me close, shielding me completely from their line of sight. I stayed quiet, breathing slow and shallow, my forehead resting against his shoulder as I closed my eyes.

"What... going on here?" came Elijah's voice-calm, mild, yet unmistakably sarcastic. "Is your version of late-night exercise?"

Isaiah lifted his face to him, his voice cool and composed despite the chaos under the surface. "She's just a friend," he said smoothly, his hand absently rubbing my shoulder-a silent signal for me to stay hidden.

Elijah exhaled slowly. "A friend. Sure. Because hugging someone like that in the dark is the textbook definition of friendship."

Isaiah offered a small shrug, a tired sigh escaping him. "I just needed a hug," he said simply, as though that made everything perfectly normal.

A beat passed. Elijah's voice came again-dry and low. "Yeah. Moonlight does make hugs... extra meaningful, apparently."

Isaiah's voice stayed level. "Is there a rule against hugging a friend in the moonlight?"

There was a pause.

"Not that I know of," Elijah murmured, almost thoughtful. "Though... I'll admit, this doesn't scream 'platonic bonding.'"

Isaiah let out a slow breath. "Fine...You really want to know?"

There was a beat of silence.

He hesitated, his voice faltering as he pushed the next words out. "...She's actually... my... girlfriend. Yes. Girlfriend."

I stilled in his arms, blinking against his shoulder. Girlfriend? My heart thudded hard.

It sounded foreign. Perhaps even to him. But he said it with conviction.

Elijah didn't respond right away. I could feel his eyes on us. On Isaiah, on the silhouette of me in his arms-but Isaiah didn't flinch. He held me steadily, as if he were holding the truth itself.

Then another voice chimed in-Randall.

"Elijah, did you find Isaiah-" He stopped abruptly. His tone, casual at first, trailed off in surprise.

Great.

Now there were two council members staring at us.

Isaiah didn't move an inch. His arms stayed locked around me, possessive and protective all at once. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I kept my face hidden, breaths shallow, praying they'd buy the lie.

Isaiah held me tighter, as if Randall's presence made this all the more dangerous. I could feel his fingers curl slightly against my back, protective.

"Well, well, well," Randall said after a moment, smirking. "What do we have here?"

Isaiah didn't flinch. "What do you mean? Can't a guy hug his girlfriend in peace?"

Randall's amusement was palpable. "Girlfriend, huh? Since when did you have a girlfriend?"

"Oh, you know. People change," Isaiah replied, shrugging. "And I just happened to find someone amazing recently."

Randall chuckled. "Look at you. All lovey-dovey now. The ssc secretary, being all romantic? That's new."

Elijah's voice cut in, soft and dry. "Should we start placing bets on how long it lasts?"

Isaiah loosened his grip slightly, just enough to breathe. "I wanted to keep it quiet for now. You two make a big deal out of everything."

I saw Randall causally lean against a nearby chair, from the corner of my eye. "Well, now we are making a big deal out of it. Look at you-clinging to her like your life depends on it. Who is she?"

Elijah tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "You're guarding her like she's state secrets."

"Let us see her face." Randall chimed in, clearly intrigued.

---

Author's note:

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chaos (and maybe a blush or two). Your support keeps me writing!