The wind had picked up.

It wasn’t strong, but it carried something sharp. Not cold exactly, just thin, like the air didn’t want to stay still.

Gabriel pulled the blanket tighter around Leonardo’s shoulders, then sat back on his heels. The plateau was quiet. Elevated. Safe enough for now.

Leonardo hadn’t said much since they’d stopped.

His breathing had slowed. Color returned faintly to his skin. But the shimmer behind his eyes lingered, just barely visible in the green-grey light, like a buried ember that refused to die out.

Gabriel hesitated before reaching for the scanner again. The last reading had shown progress, but not balance. Not yet.

A faint tremor broke the stillness.

Not under their feet, above them. A hollow click, like a distant echo ricocheting off fractured stone. Gabriel stilled, eyes narrowing. He rose halfway, scanning the rock shelf that jutted above their heads.

“Did you hear...”

A crack split through the silence. Loose stones rained down from the ledge. Not a full collapse, but enough that one chunk came flying straight toward Gabriel.

Leonardo didn’t hesitate.

In a blur of motion, he twisted toward Gabriel and pulled him down, one arm shooting up. A low, sharp hum cut the air as kinetic energy surged beneath his skin, driving his muscles into overdrive. The rock glanced off his forearm with a violent thud and shattered on the slope beside them.

He caught his breath, heart hammering. Leonardo’s arm was still raised, his chest rising fast with each breath. Sweat prickled his brow again.

Gabriel reached out instinctively, one hand catching his wrist. Too hot. Far too soon.

“I thought you were stabilizing.”

Leonardo’s jaw tensed. “Didn’t mean to use that much.”

Gabriel only gave him a look and pulled out the scanner again.

The readings were worse than before.

He dropped to one knee beside him. “You just undid everything, and your field’s still unstable,” Gabriel murmured.

Leonardo opened one eye. “Not good enough?”

“It’s not about good enough,” Gabriel replied. “It’s about stable. Which you’re not.”

A short pause.

Then, a faint smirk. “So serious.”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

He slipped the scanner back into his pouch and exhaled through his nose. The quiet stretched between them again.

Leonardo’s expression shifted, less playful now. “You’re worried.”

“Obviously.”

A beat.

Gabriel looked away. “The zone reacted to you once. It could happen again. And if I’m not careful... if I miss the signs…”

“You won’t,” Leonardo said, voice low.

Gabriel met his eyes. “I already did. I should have noticed it sooner.”

“You noticed before I flared. That’s what matters.”

Gabriel didn’t respond. His hands were still, but his shoulders held tension like coiled wire. He closed his eyes for a breath. Then another.

When he opened them again, they were gentler. Steadier.

He shifted forward. “Give me your hand.”

Leonardo blinked. “You sure?”

Gabriel nodded. “Not a full guiding. Just enough to align the interference. You’re still out of sync.”

Leonardo didn’t argue. He lifted his hand slowly, palm up, fingers relaxed.

Gabriel took it.

Warmth bloomed between them, not scorching, just steady heat, like stone warmed by sunlight. Gabriel closed his eyes again and let his breathing even out, letting his focus shift inward.

He didn’t dive deep. He brushed the edge of Leonardo’s energy field, tracing the static that clung to its surface. The current was pulled taut, strained like threads under pressure. Gabriel moved carefully, nudging here, easing there. A light touch. A balancing act.

He followed the loops, steadying them, threading through without force.

And then... something opened.

Not a door, not a memory. Just a flicker.

He saw it.

Leonardo’s fear, not of danger, but of losing control.

His guilt. A sense of being too much, too often.

And beneath it, longing. Not sharp. Not desperate. Just there. Constant. Quiet.

Gabriel flinched, only slightly. The link wasn’t deep enough to share thoughts, but they brushed against each other anyway.

And Leonardo... he must have felt something, too.

“You’re so quiet all the time,” he said, voice rough with exhaustion. “But inside you’re… storming.”

Gabriel’s eyes snapped open.

“You weren’t meant to sense that,” he said quietly.

Leonardo’s mouth twitched faintly. “Didn’t mean to. But it’s loud.”

Gabriel’s fingers trembled slightly, still curled around Leonardo’s.

He took another breath, then closed his eyes again. The guiding threads slipped back into place, smoothing the last curls of distortion. Leonardo’s rhythm steadied. The shimmer behind his eyelids dulled.

Gabriel pulled back, just a little.

“That should hold for a few hours,” he said quietly.

Leonardo didn’t move. “But if I overextend again...”

Gabriel tried to scoff. It came out as a shaky breath. “You’re impossible.”

“Just making sure.”

He said nothing. His fingers remained loosely intertwined with Leonardo’s. He didn’t let go.

Leonardo tilted his head, resting it lightly against the rock wall behind them. “You’ll be there, right?”

Gabriel didn’t speak.

But he didn’t pull away either.

Gabriel finally let go of Leonardo’s hand, the faint afterglow of the guiding already fading from his skin.

But the space between them didn’t return to how it was.

Leonardo’s breathing had leveled out. His eyes, once dulled with fatigue, now tracked Gabriel with focus. The shimmer had dimmed, but something else lingered. Calmer, firmer.

“I’ll be fine,” Leonardo said, voice low. “But that helped.”

Gabriel nodded, not trusting his voice just yet.

He busied himself with their supplies, pulling out a sealed ration pouch and the foldable cup. He poured some water and handed it over, keeping his eyes lowered. But the silence between them wasn’t tense anymore. It hummed with something quieter. Something warmer.

Leonardo took the water with a faint smile. “You always this careful with your patients?”

Gabriel gave him a flat look. “You’re not my patient.”

“Oh?” Leonardo leaned back against the rock, one knee bent loosely. “Then what am I?”

Gabriel didn’t answer. He opened the ration bar and broke off a piece, though his hands moved slower now. Less precise. Like he wasn’t fully in the moment anymore.

He was still thinking about the link. The way Leonardo’s emotions had bled into his own, heat and longing, edged with something softer. Guilt.

It wasn’t meant to happen. Not like that. Not during light guiding.

Gabriel had only meant to stabilize his energy field. Adjust the pattern. Smooth the edges.

But the moment they connected, something opened.

Like thin paper soaking up water.

He’d felt it.

That warmth wasn’t just heat. It was intent. Focused. Directed at him.

It made his own emotions spike. He’d tried to stay regulated, to be clinical. But Leonardo’s energy pressed back, curious, intense. There had been no teasing. Just honest force. Not overwhelming, but present.

And for a second, maybe longer, Gabriel had stopped filtering himself.

He knew Leonardo had felt it too.

The silence between them stretched.

Then Leonardo shifted.

One hand came up slowly, deliberately, and brushed a strand of hair from Gabriel’s forehead.

Gabriel froze.

His breath hitched. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but his entire body went still.

Leonardo didn’t push. His fingers only lingered for a moment before pulling away.

“You had ash in your hair,” he said it casually, but his eyes gave him away.

He stayed quiet, gaze flicking toward the ground. He passed him the other half of the ration bar instead. Their fingers touched. This time, Gabriel didn’t pull back right away.

“You’re thinking again,” Leonardo said.

Gabriel looked at him sidelong. “Of course I am.”

Leonardo tilted his head. “About what you saw?”

He hesitated. “About what you felt.”

Leonardo didn’t pretend. “It surprised me. You… surprised me.”

He sat up straighter, just slightly. His voice was quiet. “You keep everything quiet on the outside, but inside... it's chaos.”

Gabriel’s fingers twitched. He turned toward him, startled. “You weren’t supposed to feel that.”

“I know,” Leonardo said. “I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t on purpose.”

Gabriel looked away. “It wasn’t deep enough for resonance.”

“No,” Leonardo agreed. “But it was enough.”

Another silence followed.

But this time, it wasn’t empty.

Leonardo’s gaze dropped to their joined hands.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “I’ve never let a Guide get this close before.”

Gabriel blinked. “Not even during training?”

Leonardo shook his head. “I faked it. Back then, I’d hold just long enough to keep the readings stable. No one ever called me out.”

Gabriel frowned. “Why go that far?”

A pause. Then Leonardo’s voice dropped.

“Because most Guides I met were arrogant as hell. Like they thought once they stabilized you, they owned a piece of you. Some of them expected something in return. Not just control, sometimes more.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly.

“Like they were entitled to you?” he asked.

Leonardo didn’t look away. “Some of them said it outright. That after guiding, especially with S-Class, there should be… intimacy. Or romance. As if it was part of the deal.”

His stomach turned. “That’s disgusting.”

Leonardo’s tone didn’t shift. “It’s not just a few.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of his next words pushing through his throat. “There are Espers like that too. Especially the powerful ones. They act like Guides are property. Like we’re tools with no rights, no choice.”

Leonardo’s gaze flicked back to him. “You’ve dealt with that?”

Gabriel didn’t answer. But his silence was enough.

Leonardo’s hand tightened faintly around his.

“You didn’t do that,” he said, voice low. “You guided me like I was… human.”

He looked up again, quietly steady. “You didn’t try to fix me.”

Leonardo leaned forward slowly, bracing one hand against the rock beside Gabriel. His body close, but not touching. His eyes on Gabriel’s. Steady. Waiting.

Gabriel didn’t move.

Their faces were inches apart. Breath met breath.

Leonardo paused, just long enough to give Gabriel space.

He leaned in. Slow. Unrushed.

Gabriel’s breath caught again. Their noses brushed. His eyes half-lidded.

He didn’t flinch. Not this time.

But at the very last second, just before their lips could meet, he turned his head.

“Not now,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I’m not ready.”

Leonardo stopped instantly.

He didn’t pull away, didn’t tense. He didn’t let his hand drop.

He stayed where he was, gaze soft, voice lower than before.

“Okay,” he said. “But I’ll wait. And when you are, kiss me like you mean it.”

Gabriel’s throat tightened.

He didn’t reply.

He couldn’t.

But his fingers curled slowly into Leonardo’s sleeve. Just for a second.

Then he let go.

They stayed close, heads slightly turned toward the dark horizon. No words. Only the sound of their breathing.

Above them, the vines twitched.

Gabriel stiffened.

He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. But the vines just above his shoulder stirred, curling in slow, deliberate arcs, like they were tasting the air.

Leonardo’s hand dropped instinctively to the clasp of his weapon. He didn’t draw it. Just waited.

Gabriel followed his gaze upward.

The vines twisted again, almost imperceptibly. One strand uncoiled, reaching a fraction lower. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just… tracking.

Leonardo’s jaw tightened. “That’s… not normal.”

“Could it be the zone again?” Gabriel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Leonardo didn’t respond at first. His eyes were sharp now, focused entirely on the movement. “They’ve been still since we got here. That kind of shift isn’t wind. And it’s not echo.”

Gabriel felt the skin at the back of his neck prickle. The hairs stood up.

Another vine twitched, subtle, measured. It didn’t pulse like it had with energy earlier. It moved like something thinking. Like it was aware.

The entire ceiling above them seemed to breathe once. Then hold it.

The movement stilled.

But the quiet that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was hollow. Pressurized.

The air grew dense, like it had been pulled into the stone itself.

Gabriel didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the tightness crept into his chest. He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the vines.

“Maybe it’s nothing,” he murmured.

Leonardo’s hand remained near his weapon. “Maybe.”

But he didn’t sound convinced.

The vines settled again, retracting with almost intentional slowness. Like whatever had stirred them had paused to look. Or was still deciding.

Neither of them moved or relaxed.

Not for a long time.

Eventually, Gabriel passed the rest of the food over again. Leonardo took it without teasing.

By the time night fully settled and the distant pulse of the zone dulled to a whisper, they sat side by side, backs against the curved rock wall. The air had grown colder. The sky overhead was a murky green-grey, streaked faintly with atmospheric shimmer.

A single thermal blanket covered them both, shared without comment.

Leonardo was quiet now, arms loosely folded, eyes half-closed. Still warm beneath Gabriel’s shoulder.

Gabriel leaned in, not fully, not enough to be bold, but enough that his side rested against Leonardo’s.

Just a little.

It wasn’t exactly romantic.

But it was something.

It was trust.

Leonardo didn’t move away.

And just before Gabriel let himself settle into sleep, before his mind could pick apart every moment again, he whispered, almost too quietly to hear:

“Maybe I already do.”

Leonardo didn’t reply.

But after a long pause, his shoulder leaned a little heavier against Gabriel’s. Not possessive. Just warm. Steady.

Gabriel didn’t move away.

The air had cooled even more, carrying the faint metallic scent of the zone’s pulse far below them. But up here, under fractured stars and half-light sky, the pressure no longer pushed in from all sides.

It was quiet.

Gabriel’s eyelids dipped lower, exhaustion settling in. The tension in his spine finally began to soften, replaced by a slow, lingering warmth he couldn’t quite name.

Leonardo’s breath was even. Calm.

And this time, when Gabriel drifted into sleep, it wasn’t fear that followed him.

Only heat. And his hand.