By the time I made it back to my dorm, the sky was already turning lavender. The kind of soft, sleep-laced light that made the walls glow like paper lanterns. I shut the door gently behind me, leaned back against it, and exhaled so hard it felt like my soul left my body.
What just happened?
Oh right—just a casual midnight meeting with Julian in a psychic tower, a kiss that cracked the atmosphere, and a love confession that made my bones vibrate.
No big deal.
Except it was.
I flopped face-first onto my bed, aura still buzzing like I'd swallowed a live wire. I buried my face in a pillow and groaned like a dying walrus. I couldn't stop replaying it. His voice. His hands. The way his forehead pressed against mine like I was his whole compass.
And of course, the part where I said, "I know I'm in love with you."
I flipped over and stared at the ceiling, brain doing the emotional equivalent of running around in circles screaming. Because we hadn't talked about what happened next. Were we… a thing now? Were we supposed to pretend nothing happened? Did this change everything? Should it?
Before I could answer any of that, my door burst open without warning.
"SPILL. EVERYTHING."
Kim.
I bolted upright as she stormed in, wearing fluffy cloud-print pajamas, hair in a pineapple bun, holding two iced matcha lattes and a notebook labeled Julia's Romantic Crimes: Vol. IV.
"How—how do you even know?" I sputtered.
She handed me a latte. "I live three doors down and your aura is literally glowing through the wall. Also, you snuck out at 1:30 AM in flats and left your hair ribbon on the desk, which is your universal signal for 'don't follow me but also definitely worry.'"
Jake trailed in a second later, sleepy-eyed and wearing one sock. "I told her to wait until you were awake. I'd like it noted I was voted down."
Kim flopped onto my bed, flipped open her notebook dramatically. "Page one: Where did you go? Page two: Was it Julian? Page three: DID HE FINALLY BREAK AND DECLARE HIS UNDYING LOVE OR DO I OWE JAKE TEN BUCKS?"
Jake held out a smug hand. "You owe me."
Kim grumbled and shoved a crumpled ten into his palm. "It was a technicality. They kissed weeks ago."
Jake beamed at me. "I knew it. Called it. Booked it. Psychic best friend intuition for the win."
I pulled my knees up, wrapped my arms around them, and tried not to blush so hard I exploded. "We… talked. In the North tower. And yeah. He said it. I said it. We kissed. Again."
Kim screamed into a pillow.
Jake just nodded like a wise monk. "Finally. The narrative arc realigns."
"But what does it mean now?" I asked helplessly. "It was perfect. But also insane. He's still my mentor. We still have training and missions and—and it's Julian. He overthinks eye contact."
Kim tilted her head. "Okay but did he seem confused? Regretful? Like he was about to leap into the Void and never speak again?"
I shook my head. "No. He was… honest. Terrified, but honest. He said he thinks he's in love with me."
Kim clutched her chest. "I swear if this were a drama series, this would be the midseason finale."
Jake stretched. "Cool. So, what's the plan? Public confession in the cafeteria? Or secret lovers hiding behind emotional barriers and training drills?"
"I don't know!" I groaned. "We didn't talk about what comes next. We just… existed in it."
"Classic," Kim said. "Well, you've got training in an hour. So I guess we'll find out."
I choked on my matcha.
⸻
Training was awkward.
Not overtly. Not dramatically. But awkward in that strange, delicate way where everything looked normal on the surface—until you really looked.
Julian didn't say anything when I walked into the resonance dome. Just glanced up, gave me a nod, and returned to adjusting the pulse dampeners like it was any other morning. His hair was still damp from a quick shower. His sleeves were rolled up again.
Unfortunately, my brain was now very aware of what Julian looked like with his sleeves rolled up.
I took my usual place on the mat, heart beating loud enough to drown out the stabilizers. Kim had been absolutely no help before we left. Her final advice? "Just try not to make out during sparring. It sets unrealistic standards for the rest of us."
Julian turned to face me. His expression was unreadable. "Same drill as last time. Focus on clarity. Push, then pull. Ready?"
I nodded. "Ready."
We linked hands. And that's when it got weird.
The connection flared—fast, intense, and unruly. Our auras surged to full resonance without buildup, slamming into sync so fast it made the lights in the dome flicker. Julian swore under his breath and stepped back, breaking the link.
"Sorry," I said quickly, shaking out my fingers. "I didn't mean to push too hard."
"You didn't," he said, jaw tight. "That was me."
We tried again.
Same thing. Full amplification in seconds. No control. No buffer. The psychic energy between us was so raw and tuned that it bypassed the normal structure of the drills. I felt everything—his pulse, his thoughts, the jittery undertone of regret and longing and confusion.
He felt it too. I saw it in the way his eyes widened, the way he dropped my hand like it burned.
"We need to recalibrate," he said quietly. "Tomorrow. We'll break for today."
I nodded, trying not to let the stinging inside me show.
"Julia—" he started, then stopped.
I looked up. "Yeah?"
His face was a mess of restraint. "Last night wasn't a mistake."
"But this morning feels like it is," I said before I could stop myself.
He flinched. "That's not what I—"
"I get it," I cut in. "You need time. You're still figuring it out. Just… tell me if we're going to pretend again. So I know what version of you to look for."
That made something flicker behind his eyes. Hurt. Guilt. Love. All tangled.
"I don't want to pretend," he said. "But I don't know how to not pretend when everything I care about is at stake."
I nodded once. "Well. When you figure it out… I'll be around."
Then I left the dome.
⸻
The rest of the day was a blur of half-conversations and avoided eye contact. Julian didn't join us for lunch. Cassian waved at me from the infirmary window—his recovery was going well—but I couldn't focus. Even Kim's attempt to lighten the mood with a dramatic retelling of her failed psychic baking experiment didn't help.
That night, I sat in my room, curled up in bed, writing in my journal. The last line I scribbled before closing it:
Love is real. But it's not always simple. Sometimes, it's psychic chaos in the shape of a boy with stormy eyes and too many responsibilities.
And I still loved him anyway.
______________
The day after Julian broke the synchronization drill, I decided I needed a mental health walk and about twelve lemon cupcakes. I got one of those things.
I was halfway through a solitary stroll around the south observatory gardens—basically the only part of the Gossamer Network that didn't smell like disinfectant or ozone—when Kim materialized out of nowhere like a telepathic ninja.
"You're brooding," she announced, plopping beside me on the bench. "And your face is all twisted up. That means you're overthinking."
"I'm not brooding," I lied. "I'm… reflecting."
She handed me a granola bar. "That's the snack of liars."
I took it anyway and slumped. "It's just complicated. I feel like we broke something. Or maybe we unlocked something too big for us to handle. Like—what if the kiss destabilized our resonance permanently? What if every time we try to sync now, we just short-circuit reality?"
Kim leaned back. "Or maybe you two are finally feeling things instead of bottling them, and your psychic energy is like, I don't know, celebrating."
I gave her a skeptical look. "Celebrating by breaking the dome?"
"Love is chaotic," Kim said, waving her hand like she was reading from a romance novel. "Maybe your powers are just catching up to your hearts."
I snorted. "You should copyright that."
She grinned. "Already did. I'm writing a screenplay in my head called The Telepath's Tension."
A familiar voice interrupted us from the path behind. "Are we still talking about your psychic soap opera?"
Jake strolled into view, balancing two iced drinks and a suspiciously fluffy pastry box.
Kim brightened. "Ooh, I knew you'd come through."
He handed me a drink. "Chai latte. For the Queen of Avoidance."
Then to Kim: "And for the Empress of Inappropriate Timing—a strawberry Danish."
"Bless you," she said dramatically, then immediately shoved half of it into her mouth.
I took a sip of my drink and sighed. "Thanks. I needed this."
Jake sat on the grass, legs stretched out. "So… what's the move? You and Julian still awkwardly avoiding eye contact? Or did we level up to full-on avoidance therapy?"
I groaned. "He's like a storm cloud with guilt issues. I know he cares. But he also keeps pulling back. And every time we try to train, our energy just snaps into overdrive and fries something."
Kim chewed thoughtfully. "Maybe you need a buffer. A reset. What if you trained… apart for a bit?"
"Or with other people," Jake offered. "Just until your brains stop turning into fireworks every time you get within five feet."
I blinked. "That's… actually not a bad idea."
Kim grinned. "Boom. Look at us, solving psychic love crises one snack at a time."
I smiled back, but part of me still twisted with uncertainty. I didn't want distance. I wanted answers. Clarity. But maybe clarity needed a little space first.
⸻
Later that afternoon, I requested a temporary switch in training partners. Just for the week. Julian approved it through the system without comment.
Classic.
Instead, I got paired with Alvin. Which meant the session was two-thirds actual training, one-third him ranting about his new obsession with "energy harmonics in transdimensional architecture."
"It's all about the angles," he said, flinging his hand in the air while glowing lines traced behind it. "If you redirect a resonance field through a triangular prism of compressed psi matter, you can literally—"
"Alvin," I interrupted, breathless as I braced a new energy pulse, "focus. Pulse return in three seconds."
"Oh! Right. Sorry. SCIENCE."
We powered through the drill, and for once, I wasn't consumed by emotional static. Alvin's energy was bright, uncomplicated, steady. He didn't overthink. He just was.
At the end of the session, he beamed. "You're actually easier to train with than half the instructors. Don't tell Julian I said that."
I laughed. "Don't worry. Julian's too busy stress-silencing the entire east wing."
⸻
The next morning, Julian passed me in the corridor outside the Archives. His gaze brushed mine for a second, and he slowed just enough to murmur, "You're training with Alvin now?"
I stopped. "Just for the week."
He nodded once. "Good. He's… solid."
I tilted my head. "You sure you're okay with it?"
A long pause. "No. But I want you to have space. And control. Without… me being the variable."
I looked at him for a second too long. "You're not just a variable, Julian."
He nodded. Then he walked away.
And I stood there, wanting to chase him, hug him, yell at him, all at the same time.
⸻
By Friday, the buzz around the Network had shifted. Not about me or Julian—but about Cassian.
After weeks in the infirmary, he was finally back. And he looked… different.
Stronger. Taller, somehow. Not physically, but psychically. His aura gleamed like he'd polished it in secret.
Kim grabbed me by the sleeve after lunch. "We need to talk. Cassian just offered to take over the Synchronization Demos next week."
I blinked. "That's Julian's slot."
"Exactly," she said. "And Julian let him."
Jake chimed in, having clearly eavesdropped, "That's not normal. Julian doesn't let go of anything. Especially not lead resonance control."
I frowned. "Maybe he's trying to step back. From everything."
Kim gave me a look. "Or maybe he's unraveling and you're the thread."
I shoved a forkful of salad in my mouth. "Helpful."
Still… the thought echoed.
Julian was backing away. From drills. From me. From us.
And I didn't know how to stop him without forcing something he wasn't ready to give.
⸻
That night, I found myself back in the observatory garden. Alone. Moonlight tangled in the treetops. My aura was flickering between steady and unsure, like it couldn't decide how to feel without him near.
"Deep thoughts?" a voice asked.
Julian.
He stood on the edge of the stone path, hands in his coat pockets, eyes soft but guarded.
"I thought you weren't doing late-night ambushes anymore," I said quietly.
"I wasn't planning to." He stepped forward. "But I couldn't sleep."
I waited.
"I've been thinking," he said. "About control. About connection. And about how badly I've handled all of this."
I turned to face him fully. "Then say it. Whatever it is. Say the thing."
He inhaled slowly. "I miss you. Even when you're five feet away. I miss you like you're not even in the room. That's how much I've built a wall to keep things 'safe.'"
My heart did the stupid flutter thing again. "Julian…"
"I don't want to be your mentor anymore."
That hurt.
Until he added, "Because I want to be something else. If you still want that. If you think we can figure this out—outside of drills, outside of roles."
I didn't speak. I just walked up to him, heart in my throat, and took his hand.
His fingers tightened around mine like they were made to.
"You can be whatever you want," I whispered. "As long as it's with me."
He smiled, tired and real. "Then let's stop pretending. No more distance."
I nodded. "No more dodging. But I'm still training with Alvin until Monday."
He raised a brow. "Fair."
And for the first time in days, I felt everything align—not our powers, not our auras—but us.
Uncomplicated. For now.
Together.