{Chapter: 184 - Claire Bennet and the Sound of Her Heart}
The food arrived, and Aiden let her sit with her thoughts while they ate. Claire tried to smile, tried to pretend she was fine, but she pushed her food around her plate more than she ate it.
When the check came, Aiden paid without hesitation. Claire muttered something about paying him back, but he waved it off.
Outside, the sky was darker now, the rain completely gone. The streetlights lit the sidewalk in soft pools of light, casting a golden glow around Claire as they walked back to the van.
Aiden opened the door for her and paused, one hand on the roof.
"I'll drop you off," he said, tone neutral. "School or home?"
Claire stood there, clutching the strap of her bag. Her lips parted like she was going to answer, then stopped.
She hesitated.
And then her voice came out softer than before, nearly a whisper. "Can you… go somewhere with me?"
She didn't know exactly where she wanted to go.
She just knew she wasn't ready to say goodbye.
Aiden didn't reply right away. He just looked at her.
Inside, her thoughts were a mess.
>'Why do you want to leave? What do I do!?'
Aiden tilted his head slightly, hearing more in the silence than in her words.
Claire was very embarrassed and a little nervous. She could even hear her heartbeat pounding loudly. She didn't know if Aiden had guessed what she was thinking, but she knew she wasn't going to regret this decision.
Her heart was pounding — embarrassingly loud, like her chest might echo. She wasn't sure if he knew what she was thinking, but somehow, that didn't matter anymore.
And then, Aiden gave a crooked smirk. The kind of smirk that made you second-guess everything and yet feel seen at the same time.
"Exactly when did this town run out of horny 17-year-old boys." he muttered, raising an eyebrow.
Observing his blunt demeanor, she inhaled deeply as he caught her gaze. Her hands clenched into fists, determined not to yield, despite feeling quite embarrassed.
"About weeks ago," she said under her breath. "It's been... weirdly quiet since."
Aiden leaned against the car door. His tone was casual, but his eyes weren't.
"You know, I could get into trouble just being here."
She shrugged, trying to play it off, though her hands were trembling slightly.
"I just wanted to see you."
"Yeah. I caught that," Aiden said, his smirk softening just a bit. "So did everyone else. Most think you're stalking me."
She raised a brow. He added quickly:
"One could argue they're just jealous. I actually made that argument."
There was a pause.
"Going home wasn't the plan, huh?"
"Not really." Claire shook her head, staring at the gravel under her shoes. As she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "In Iceland the age of consent is 14."
"I'm surprised tourism isn't a bigger industry up there." Aiden replied.
"Today I'm jailbait but in a few weeks anybody can do anything to me. Will I be so different in a few weeks?" She replied, fully aware of where this conversation was leading.
Aiden looked at her from top to bottom. "A few weeks ha?" Aiden chuckled. "For your few weeks are enough for an embryo to grow into a full child."
"It's just an arbitrary line drawn by a bunch of saddled old men in robes." She shot back as if she was prepared for this argument long ago.
"Yeah! Who cares what the judges think?"
"Didn't think of you as a guy who followed rules, just because they were rules, when you literally got powers."
He exhaled, amused and exasperated all at once. "You do realize I'm five years older than you?"
She looked up at him, unwavering now.
"You said 'older,' not 'off-limits.'"
Another pause. A quiet war of smirks and defiance.
The metallic click of the car door unlocking cut through the silence like a signal flare in the dark.
"Get in," Aiden said flatly, not looking at her.
He didn't need to say it twice.
Claire practically dove into the passenger seat, her blonde ponytail whipping behind her as she slid inside the van and shut the door with a soft thunk. Her hands were trembling. She gripped the edges of her skirt tightly, knuckles turning white. The silence in the cabin was thick, almost alive — and for Claire, it was unbearable.
Her thoughts were running like wildfire.
>'What if he hates me now? What if I came off desperate? Oh God, what if he can still hear me thinking this?'
Her eyes flicked toward Aiden. His face was stoic, unreadable, focused on the road ahead. That unreadable calm made her nerves worse.
She bit her lip, her breathing shallow as the guilt from their earlier argument mixed with a cocktail of teenage anxiety and confused affection and love. Embarrassment was eating her alive. Her whole body was taut, like a stretched rubber band just about to snap.
Claire had always been good at hiding pain. She could break bones and smile about it. She could die and get back up without a sound. But sitting beside Aiden like this — not knowing what he was thinking.
Aiden, for his part, didn't say anything. He just drove. Eyes locked on the road. Hands resting loose but steady on the steering wheel.
Claire glanced at him again, heart pounding against her ribs.
He didn't even ask her where they were going.
Which meant...
He knows.
Her stomach twisted.
He's reading my mind again.
>'Did that mean he understood? That he accepted? That he wanted to come with me, there?'
>'If he knew. If he did then does that mean he agreed?'
The weight of her thoughts pressed against her ribs. She wanted to scream, to cry, to blurt something out just to break the tension. But she said nothing. She sat still and quiet, caught between wanting to hide and wanting to be heard.
Aiden, meanwhile, was growing increasingly aware of how taxing his ability could be.
Hearing thoughts — raw, unfiltered, intrusive — wasn't like having a conversation. It was like being dragged into someone else's mental storm, whether you wanted to or not. Claire's thoughts weren't just words. They came with feelings — bright, heated, teenaged confusion and yearning. The mix of affection and embarrassment was pouring into his brain like a flood he couldn't stop.
Now he understood what Matt Parkman must've dealt with every day. It wasn't a gift. It was a curse.
He tightened his grip on the wheel slightly, keeping his face passive.
I need to learn to control this... shut it off when I want to. Otherwise, I'll drown in people's heads.
After thirty long, quiet minutes, they pulled off the road and into a narrow path that led toward the edge of the suburbs. The asphalt turned to gravel, and then to dirt. Finally, the car rolled to a stop on the side of an old, empty field.
A dense forest stood in front of them, shadows clinging to the underbrush like ghosts. It was quiet. Isolated. The kind of place that no one wandered into by accident.
The engine cut off with a low whine.
Without looking at her, Aiden pushed the door open and stepped out. "Lead the way," he said, his voice flat but not cold.
Claire nodded, her voice caught in her throat. She clutched the strap of her backpack tighter and got out after him. She didn't bother asking how he knew where to go. There was no point. If he was hearing her thoughts, then she might as well stop trying to pretend.
The walk through the woods was awkwardly silent. Claire tried to focus on the ground ahead, occasionally brushing away low-hanging branches. The air was thick with pine and damp earth. Birds chirped in the distance, but their calls felt too loud — like the world was amplifying everything just to torment her.
After about ten minutes of walking, they reached it.
A wide clearing opened up beneath an old canopy of trees, and nestled in the branches of one of the larger trunks, perched around five meters off the ground, was a simple but sturdy treehouse.
Claire stopped in front of it, eyes glazed with nostalgia. Her voice, when it came, was soft. "It's been a long time since I came here."
Aiden followed her gaze. "You built this?"
Claire nodded. "Bought the materials online. Built it with my friend when I was thirteen. Before she moved."
There was a long pause.
"It's an important place for me," she added quietly, almost like she needed to justify why she brought him here.
Aiden didn't reply immediately. His expression softened slightly, eyes sweeping over the quiet little house in the trees. He could feel how much it meant to her, not just through her thoughts — but in her energy, her body language, her silence.
"You're not going to climb?" he asked finally.
Claire gave a dry laugh. "I used to. But today... I don't know. I just don't feel like it."
Aiden smiled slightly. "Heh. Alright."
Without another word, he stepped closer, bent down, and scooped her into his arms.
"Wait—!"
And then they were floating.
Claire's heart nearly exploded. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, and her face turned crimson. She was glad he couldn't see it clearly in the dim light.
They rose slowly, weightless, until they landed gently on the platform in front of the treehouse door.
Inside, it was cozy — if a little dusty. The space was just big enough for two people to sit. It smelled like old wood and memories. There were faded cushions tucked against the walls, an old lantern, and a folded-up mat still sitting in the corner.
Claire moved quickly, unfolding the mat and slapping it down in the middle of the floor. Her hands trembled, but she forced herself to breathe.
Aiden sat cross-legged on the mat, and she followed a second later, sitting opposite him. The space between them felt painfully short.
She didn't speak.
But her thoughts were screaming.
>'Does he like me? Like, like me? Or does he just see me as a kid? Maybe he thinks I'm being stupid — maybe this was dumb — bringing him here. Ugh, he's so calm, why is he so calm? I'm literally dying here and he's just sitting there like he's meditating.'
Aiden stared at her, expression unreadable.
The thoughts kept flowing. Guilt. Curiosity. Affection. Attraction. Doubt. Hope. All of it rolling off her in waves. She tried to avoid his eyes, biting her lower lip, heart hammering in her chest.
Aiden exhaled slowly, trying to block it out — but she was thinking so loudly. And she was so sincere.
Claire Bennet might have looked like the perfect cheerleader — confident, popular, untouchable — but inside, she was still a teenage girl trying to understand her place in the world. Her powers made her feel alien. Her heart made her feel too human. She was fragile in all the ways that didn't heal overnight.
And right now, she was sitting in front of him, scared out of her mind that she'd scared him away.
Aiden looked at her, really looked at her — not the cheerleader, not the regenerating girl, not the walking miracle — but just Claire.
"I can't always turn it off," he said softly.
Claire blinked. "Huh?"
"My ability," he added. "The thoughts. I hear them whether I want to or not. Especially when... emotions are strong."
Her eyes widened.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to— I just— I didn't know who else to bring."
Aiden shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Claire's shoulders loosened slightly. She blinked fast, trying not to cry. She wasn't even sure why she felt like crying.
Maybe it was the relief.
Or maybe it was the boy sitting across from her — the first person who didn't try to fix her, or save her, or expect her to be indestructible.
Just someone who saw her.
And maybe — just maybe — she wanted to be seen.
Even if it meant he could hear every chaotic, hormone-fueled, teenage thought she couldn't stop from thinking.
Especially those.
Aiden gave a small smile, his eyes soft for once.
"This place is important to you," he said. "I'm glad you brought me."
Claire's lips parted slightly. Her heart skipped a beat.
For the first time all day, the silence between them wasn't painful.
It was peaceful.
Intimate.
Hopeful.
And that — for Claire Bennet — was scarier than anything else.
Looking at Claire's firm but still nervous look, Aiden slowly reached out and slowly unbuttoned her clothes. Claire gradually closed her eyes as her clothes were removed and scattered around the floor.
"I'll be gentle…"