The Weight of Silence
The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension, thick with what they had both been trying so desperately to ignore. Lucius could feel it—the moment teetering on the edge of something both dangerous and exhilarating. He had asked her to let him in, to feel what he was feeling, to give him something—anything—but she hadn’t. Not yet. And the silence that stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, was beginning to feel like a kind of test, a trial neither of them had prepared for.
Lucius’s hand lingered on her face, his thumb still grazing the soft curve of her cheek, though now the tenderness in his touch was mixed with a kind of desperation. His heart was pounding, a dull, rhythmic throb that seemed to echo through his chest, and his breath was shallow as his mind raced.
He had pushed and pushed, but now, standing so close to her, the weight of his desire—his need to break through the walls she had so carefully constructed—was too much to bear. He couldn’t just wait any longer. The way she had looked at him, the way her hand had brushed against his—there was something there, something fragile and fleeting, but it was real.
He knew it was real.
But it still wasn’t enough.
“Narcissa…” His voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make her stiffen, her breath catching in her throat. The weight of his words hung between them, thick with something he hadn’t said, something he didn’t know how to say. But he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Tell me to stop,” Lucius breathed, his hand still cupping her face, his gaze locked on hers. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
Her eyes widened slightly, the surprise and confusion in them unmistakable. She was caught between something—between the cold wall she had built up so carefully, and something she didn’t want to acknowledge. Lucius could see it. He could see the struggle in the way her lips parted, in the way she hesitated, as though she were searching for the right words. But he didn’t want words. He didn’t want her to explain herself. He just wanted something to happen, something that would finally break the silence between them.
“Tell me to stop, Narcissa. Tell me that you don’t want this. Because if you do, I’ll leave. I swear I will.”
The intensity in his voice was unmistakable now, but so was the underlying uncertainty. The fear. The fear of pushing her too far, of making her uncomfortable, of losing whatever fragile connection they had built in these stolen moments. But he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending that he wasn’t desperate to be closer, to be more.
And then, almost without thinking, the words slipped from his mouth in a hushed, ragged breath.
“Or kiss me. Just once.”
The world seemed to stop.
Narcissa’s eyes flickered, her gaze darting from his lips to his eyes, her breathing quick and uneven. Lucius’s heart slammed in his chest. The words had been reckless, impulsive, and as soon as they left his mouth, he immediately regretted them. He had crossed a line. He had made it real, and he didn’t know if he could take it back.
Narcissa’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She stood frozen, caught between the fear of what could happen and the undeniable draw she felt toward him, toward the temptation he was offering. The tension between them felt almost unbearable, like a storm on the horizon, both threatening and inevitable.
But then, her expression shifted. The softness in her eyes faded, replaced with something colder, something more guarded. She stepped back, her breath shaky as she broke eye contact, suddenly looking anywhere but at him.
“No,” she whispered, the word barely audible, but sharp enough to cut through the thick air between them.
Lucius’s chest constricted at the word. It was a rejection, but it was more than that. It was a refusal to even acknowledge what they had, what he had dared to ask for. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to face the pull between them, the undeniable attraction that they had both tried so hard to bury. But his heart still raced, his pulse still hammered in his veins. He couldn’t let her go, not like this.
“I… I didn’t mean to pressure you,” Lucius said quickly, his voice strained. He lowered his hand from her face, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. “I just—”
But before he could finish, she turned abruptly, her back to him, and took a step toward the door. The action was so sudden, so final, that Lucius’s breath hitched in his throat. She wasn’t just leaving physically—she was retreating emotionally, pulling away from him with a force that left him breathless.
Narcissa didn’t look back. She didn’t say another word.
“Wait.” Lucius’s voice cracked, and he stepped forward, but she was already moving toward the door, her footsteps quick and urgent. His heart was pounding in his ears now, the weight of her rejection sinking deeper with each passing second.
Her hand reached for the door handle, and Lucius felt a sharp pang of panic. He couldn’t let her walk away like this. Not when they were so close. Not when something between them had shifted, even if it was just for a moment.
“Narcissa, please.” His voice was raw, desperate, but the words felt too weak in the face of her retreat.
She paused for a moment, but still, she didn’t turn around. Lucius could see her shoulders rising and falling, her breath rapid and uneven, as if she were trying to steady herself. Trying to hold back the flood of emotions that he knew were threatening to overwhelm her.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice small and fragile. “I can’t do this with you, Lucius. Not now. Not like this.”
And before he could reach her, before he could speak again, she was gone—slipping out of the room in a flash of silver-blond hair, leaving him standing alone in the silence.
Lucius stood there, rooted to the spot, his hand still stretched out as though he could catch her, as though he could hold onto her long enough for her to realize what they both wanted. But she was gone, and the space between them—once so filled with potential—was now a chasm, deep and painful.
He exhaled slowly, the weight of her rejection settling heavy on his chest. His hand fell to his side, and for the first time in a long time, he felt utterly helpless. This wasn’t how he had imagined things would go. He hadn’t expected her to run.
But she had. And now, all he had was the echo of her steps fading down the corridor. The echo of what could have been.
And yet, despite the burning ache in his chest, Lucius couldn’t stop the thought that pulsed through his mind—he would wait. He would wait for her to return. Because something had shifted between them, something real, and he wasn’t going to give up that easily.
Not now. Not ever.