ACOTAR one shots, imagines and short stories

*The Art of Moving On (Azriel x OC) - Part 6*

Word count: 3353

Characters: Azriel and Elara (OC)

Warning: Mature themes. 18+

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elara barely registered the click of her bedroom door closing behind her as she leaned against it, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She had fled the ballroom in a blur of confusion and embarrassment, her mind reeling with the sudden, crushing weight of doubt.

She wanted nothing more than to retreat into the solace of her room, to bury herself in the safety of her bed and forget everything that had happened tonight. But just as she turned to step further inside, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the corridor. Her heart leaped into her throat as a gentle knock echoed through the door.

"Elara," came Azriel's voice, low and soothing. "Please, let me in."

She hesitated, staring at the door with a mix of longing and dread. She wasn't ready to face him, to confront the swirl of emotions that had brought her to this point. But Azriel wasn't the type to be easily deterred. After another moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice more insistent.

"Elara, please."

With a shaky breath, Elara stepped away from the door and slowly turned the handle. Azriel entered the room, his expression filled with concern, his eyes searching her face. The sight of him made her chest tighten even more.

"I'm fine," she lied, trying to muster a smile, but it faltered under his intense gaze. He could see through her—he always could.

Azriel reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek as he brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. The touch sent warmth flooding through her, but it also stung with the reminder of what she believed to be an impossible reality.

"Elara, you're not fine," he murmured, his voice soft, filled with genuine concern.

Unable to bear the tenderness in his touch, she pulled back, stepping away as if his hand had suddenly become too hot to endure. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to put up a barrier between them.

Azriel opened his mouth, his expression earnest as he began, "What you saw—"

But she couldn't let him finish. She needed to say this before she lost her nerve, before the longing in his eyes made her believe in something she knew she couldn't have. "Azriel, you don't have to do this," she said, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. "You don't need to explain anything to me. Your private life is none of my business. I should never have dragged you into this ruse."

Azriel shook his head, his expression pained. "You didn't drag me into anything, Elara. I chose to—"

"And I let myself get caught up in it," Elara continued, her voice trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure. "I started to allow myself to think..." She hesitated, the words lodging in her throat. Admitting it would make it too real, too painful. "That was my mistake. But Rylan's leaving tomorrow, so this will all be over. We can go back to how things were."

The moment the words left her lips, they tasted bitter, like ash on her tongue. As if she could just pretend that everything they'd shared during the ruse—every lingering touch, every stolen glance, every whispered word—hadn't begun to feel real. As if she could simply erase the warmth she felt in his presence, the way her heart had started to race whenever he was near.

Azriel's gaze hardened, his jaw tightening as he took a step closer to her. "What if I don't want to go back to how things were?" he asked, his voice low, intense, carrying the weight of all the unspoken truths between them.