Ivy woke up slowly, not because she was rested, but because her body refused to move any faster.
For a moment she didn't remember where she was.
The room was dim, the curtains barely letting in the pale morning light, and the air still carried the faint warmth from the night before.
Then she felt it.
An arm around her waist.
Heavy.
Warm.
Still there.
Her eyes opened completely.
Kylian was asleep behind her, his face half buried in the pillow, his breathing deep and steady. One hand rested on her stomach, fingers relaxed, like even in his sleep he didn't want to let her drift too far.
She stayed still, listening to the quiet.
Last night came back in flashes.
The blindfold.
The ropes.
His voice in her ear.
The way he had gone from rough to careful in seconds.
The way he had rubbed her wrists after.
The way he had held her like she might disappear if he let go too fast.
And then—
Good night, Ivy.
Good night Ghost…
She felt the memory sit heavier than the rest.
She shifted slightly, testing if he would wake up.
His arm tightened immediately.
Not enough to trap her.
Just enough to keep her there.
His eyes opened a second later, unfocused at first, then settling on her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
He looked at her like he was making sure she was still real.
"You move a lot," he muttered, voice rough with sleep.
She smirked faintly.
"You tied me up. I think I'm allowed."
That made the corner of his mouth lift.
"Fair."
Silence again.
Different from last night.
Less electric.
More real.
He blinked slowly, then frowned a little, like something had come back to him.
"You called me Ghost."
She froze for a fraction of a second, then looked at him casually.
"…what?"
"Last night."
His eyes stayed on her.
"When you said good night."
He shifted slightly closer, still watching her face.
"You said Ghost."
She shrugged, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.
"You told me that was your nickname."
"Yeah… but most people don't use it like that."
"I liked it."
He didn't answer right away.
His gaze stayed on her longer than before, like he was trying to understand something that didn't make sense.
"You talk like you already know me," he said quietly.
Her pulse skipped.
She forced a small smile.
"Maybe I do."
"That wasn't a joke."
"I know."
Silence.
He pushed himself up on one elbow, still close, still studying her like he expected something to slip.
"You're strange," he said.
She laughed softly.
"You tied my hands to a bed yesterday and I'm the strange one?"
"That's not what I mean."
He hesitated, searching for the right words.
Then he said it.
"You feel… familiar."
Her chest tightened.
He looked away for a second, then back at her.
"Like I've seen you before."
She kept her face calm.
"That happens."
"No."
He shook his head slowly.
"Not like this."
Another pause.
"You're here… but at the same time it feels like you're not."
Her fingers tightened in the blanket.
He kept talking, almost to himself now.
"Sometimes when I look at you, it's like you're hiding something."
She stayed quiet.
"And sometimes…" he continued, lower, "it feels like you're right in front of me, but also somewhere else."
A long silence.
He finally looked at her again.
"You ever feel that? Like someone is very present… but invisible at the same time."
She swallowed slowly.
"You mean like a ghost?"
He gave a small breath, almost a laugh.
"Yeah."
A beat.
"Exactly like that."
She held his gaze for a second, then looked away first.
"Maybe you're just tired."
"You avoid questions a lot."
"I answer what I want."
"That's not an answer."
"That is an answer."
He watched her a little longer, then leaned back against the pillow, exhaling.
"You're going to drive me crazy."
"You survived last night, you'll survive this."
He rubbed his face with one hand.
"What time is it?"
She grabbed her phone.
"Almost ten."
He cursed under his breath.
"I should be up."
"You have somewhere to go?"
He nodded.
"Yeah."
Just that.
Yeah.
No explanation.
Distance again.
She sat up slowly, the blanket sliding off her shoulders, and winced without meaning to.
He noticed immediately.
"You sore?"
She gave him a look.
"What do you think?"
He smirked slightly.
"Come here."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You planning to tie me again?"
He shook his head.
"No. Relax."
She moved closer, sitting in front of him.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and started pressing slowly, working the tension out of her muscles.
Firm.
Careful.
Controlled.
"You always do that?" she asked quietly.
"Do what?"
"That… and then take care of everything after."
He shrugged.
"If I push… I make sure you land."
She watched his face.
"You don't look like someone who cares."
He smirked faintly.
"You don't look like someone who lets people get close."
Her heart skipped again.
He stopped for a moment, hands resting on her sides.
"You still didn't answer."
"About what?"
"Why it feels like I know you."
She held his gaze.
Because you do.
Because I've been there longer than you think.
Because you don't see all of me.
But she only smiled a little.
"Maybe you're easy to read."
He stared at her like he wanted to push further.
He didn't.
He exhaled, letting his hands fall away.
"You're trouble."
"You like trouble."
He almost smiled.
"Too much."
He leaned forward and kissed her, slower this time, not rough, not hungry.
Just close.
His forehead rested against hers.
"You're here… but not really," he murmured.
She closed her eyes.
"And you keep coming back anyway."
He let out a quiet breath.
"Yeah."
Outside, the city was already awake.
Inside, he held her like he didn't want to lose contact.
And Ivy couldn't stop thinking the same thing.
He thinks I'm a ghost.
If he only knew how invisible I really am.