Rachel sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop open in front of her, the faint blue light reflecting in her eyes. A messy stack of papers surrounded her—research on neurological phenomena, articles on consciousness transfer theories, and several entirely useless pseudoscientific blog posts she’d saved out of desperation.
She let out an exasperated sigh, shoving her glasses higher up her nose. Her hair was a chaotic mess from running her hands through it too many times, and her sweater slipped off one shoulder. The clock on the wall ticked softly, the only sound in the dimly lit room.
Garrett sat a few feet away, leaning against the edge of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him. He was flipping through an old, worn-out journal he had borrowed from a retired professor who had once dabbled in fringe science. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the lean muscles of his forearms. His fingers absently drummed against the journal as he skimmed through page after page of barely legible scrawl.
The room had been silent for a while, the kind of silence that grew heavier with the weight of uncertainty. The dim light of a desk lamp painted them both in muted gold, casting shadows that flickered with every shift of their bodies.
Rachel glanced up from her laptop, watching Garrett as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, clearly frustrated. She studied the slight crease between his brows and the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly when he was concentrating. She was surprised by how familiar he was beginning to feel—the kind of familiarity that usually came with years of knowing someone.
“Any luck over there, Einstein?” she teased softly, her voice breaking the silence.
Garrett glanced over at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Yeah, if you consider reading absolute nonsense for the past hour lucky,” he replied, tossing the journal aside with an exaggerated sigh. “You?”
Rachel leaned back on her palms, shaking her head. “Nope. Just more New Age garbage about ‘soul frequencies’ and cosmic karma.” She rolled her eyes and let out a tired laugh.
Garrett smirked, stretching out his legs. “So, basically, we’re no closer to helping them than we were five hours ago.”
“Pretty much.” Rachel rubbed her eyes, feeling the fatigue settle in.
Without thinking, Garrett scooted closer, leaning his back against the couch next to her. Their arms brushed slightly, and he glanced at her, sensing her exhaustion.
“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentler now. “You’re gonna burn out if you keep going like this.”
Rachel let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, you’re one to talk. You’ve been obsessing over those journals like some mad scientist all night.”
Garrett grinned faintly. “Touché.”
For a moment, they simply sat there, the warmth of their shoulders pressed together. The quietness of the room seemed heavier now, but it no longer felt uncomfortable.
Rachel leaned her head back against the couch, closing her eyes. “You think they’ll be okay?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Garrett glanced at her, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said with quiet certainty. “They will.”
When she turned to look at him, her eyes were tired but hopeful. And for the first time that night, he realized how beautiful she was. Not in the polished, perfect kind of way, but in the quiet, disarming kind—the kind that sneaks up on you. Her hair was a tousled mess, her cheeks slightly flushed, and there were faint circles beneath her eyes, but she was still breathtaking.
Without realizing it, his eyes lingered on her a little too long. Rachel caught the look and tilted her head slightly.
“What?” she asked softly, her lips curving into a faint smile.
Garrett shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed that she had caught him staring. “Nothing,” he murmured, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him.
Her gaze lingered on him for a beat longer, then she nudged his shoulder lightly. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” she teased, her voice low and playful.
A slow grin tugged at his lips. “Am I?” he challenged softly.
Before she could answer, her stomach let out an unexpected growl, breaking the moment.
Rachel groaned and covered her face. “Oh, God. I am officially the least attractive person alive right now.”
Garrett burst into laughter, his head tilting back slightly. The deep, rich sound filled the room, and it was the first time Rachel had heard him laugh like that. Full and genuine.
When his eyes met hers again, they were crinkled at the corners, still bright with amusement. “I don’t know,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I kinda like it.”
Rachel arched a skeptical brow. “You like when girls sound like angry bears?”
He smirked. “No. I like it when you’re real.”
Her breath caught slightly at the tenderness in his voice. For a moment, she forgot about the journals and the papers scattered around them. She forgot about the hours they had spent chasing theories and half-baked solutions. She forgot about everything except the boy sitting beside her, looking at her like she was something worth admiring.
Without thinking, she reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, her fingertips grazing the side of his face.
Garrett stilled slightly at her touch. His eyes softened, and he leaned into her hand, just barely. The simple gesture sent a warmth rushing through him, and suddenly, he was very aware of how close they were.
Rachel’s hand lingered, and she smiled softly. “You have this adorable crease right here,” she murmured, tracing the spot between his brows with her thumb. “It only shows up when you’re concentrating too hard.”
His heart gave an unexpected lurch at the affection in her voice. He caught her wrist gently, holding her hand against his face for just a moment longer.
“Rachel,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse.
Her breath hitched. His eyes were on hers—dark and warm, filled with something she hadn’t been ready to see.
And then, slowly, cautiously, he leaned in.
Her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away. Their lips brushed softly, a barely-there graze, as if they were both afraid that any sudden movement would shatter the fragile moment.
Garrett’s hand slid to her cheek, cupping it gently. The second kiss was more certain—slow and lingering, tasting of warmth and quiet desperation. His lips moved against hers with gentle reverence, as though he was afraid she might slip away if he wasn’t careful.
Rachel melted into him, her fingers sliding into his hair. She pulled him closer, deepening the kiss slightly, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest, she was sure he could hear it.
When they finally parted, their foreheads rested together, their breaths uneven.
Rachel let out a shaky laugh. “I thought we were supposed to be helping our friends.”
Garrett smiled faintly, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. His voice was low, almost a whisper.
“We are.” He kissed her again, slow and soft, his lips lingering as though he never wanted to pull away. “But maybe it’s okay if we help each other too.”
Rachel let out a soft, breathless laugh and buried her face against his neck.
For once, the weight of the world seemed a little lighter. And as they sat there, their hands intertwined, she realized that even in the midst of chaos, something beautiful had found its way into the mess.