Nights in the asylum were always the worst. The quiet was unsettling, broken only by the occasional shuffle of footsteps down the hallway or the distant hum of machines. Evelyn often lay awake in her bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, waiting for sleep to take her. But tonight was different. Her mind was filled with thoughts of him—Colby.
It had been days since their brief moment in the garden, and yet the memory of his touch still lingered on her skin. She had been keeping her distance since then, unsure of what to say, how to act. The pull she felt toward him was overwhelming, and it terrified her. She had come to this place broken, but now she was starting to feel something again, something dangerous.
Sleep didn't come that night. Instead, she found herself slipping out of her room, her bare feet padding softly on the cold linoleum floor. The hallway was dimly lit, casting long shadows that seemed to dance with every flicker of the overhead lights. She had no destination in mind, only the overwhelming need to escape the suffocating silence of her room.
As she rounded a corner, she nearly bumped into someone. Her heart leapt into her throat as her eyes darted up, meeting a familiar gaze.
Colby.
He stood there, just a few feet away, his dark eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the tension between them palpable in the stillness of the hallway. Evelyn's pulse raced, a mixture of nerves and excitement flooding her senses.
"Couldn't sleep?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if the quiet of the night demanded it.
Evelyn shook her head, her throat too dry to respond immediately. She glanced down the hallway, then back at him, searching for something to say. "You either?"
Colby gave a soft chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "This place makes it hard to sleep. Too many ghosts." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied her. "You want to get out of here for a while?"
Her heart skipped a beat. "Out... where?"
He nodded down the hall toward the stairwell. "There's a spot on the roof. It's quiet. No one ever goes up there."
Evelyn hesitated for only a second before nodding. Something about the way he said it made her feel like it was the right choice. She followed him, the two of them moving silently through the maze of corridors until they reached the stairwell. The metal door groaned as Colby pushed it open, and they ascended the stairs, their footsteps echoing softly in the enclosed space.
The roof was as quiet as he'd promised. A gentle breeze blew in from the city beyond, carrying with it the distant sounds of life—cars, people, a world that felt so far away from the asylum. The stars above were faint, blurred by the light pollution, but they were there, twinkling softly in the inky sky.
Evelyn stepped to the edge of the roof, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. The cool air was refreshing, like a sharp contrast to the stagnant atmosphere inside. She could feel Colby's presence beside her, close enough that his warmth seeped into her skin despite the night's chill.
"Do you come up here often?" she asked, breaking the silence between them.
"Sometimes," he said, his voice softer now. "When it gets too much down there." He tilted his head back, gazing up at the stars. "It's nice to remember there's more out there. That we're not trapped forever."
Evelyn looked at him, her heart aching at the weight of his words. She could feel the same heaviness, the same fear of being swallowed by this place. But with him beside her, it didn't feel so suffocating anymore.
She took a deep breath, her chest tightening with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite name. "Thank you," she whispered, turning to face him fully. "For bringing me here."
Colby's eyes met hers, and in the dim light of the night, they seemed darker, more intense. "I don't know why, but I feel like I need to look out for you."
Her breath hitched at his words. There was something raw and unguarded about the way he said it, and it sent a rush of warmth through her. She had been alone for so long, so used to pushing people away, but with Colby, it felt different. It felt like she didn't have to hide anymore.
"You don't have to," she murmured, though part of her hoped he would anyway.
"I want to."
The quiet confession hung between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest as she took a small step closer to him, her fingers brushing his arm. The contact sent a spark through her, and she saw the way his gaze darkened, his body tensing under her touch.
Neither of them moved for a long moment, both frozen in the tension that simmered between them. And then, slowly, Colby reached out, his hand hesitantly cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed across her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
"I don't know what this is," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. "But I can't stop thinking about you."
Evelyn closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. Her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest, the intensity of the moment nearly overwhelming. "I feel the same," she admitted, her voice shaky with emotion. "It scares me."
Colby's hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer until their foreheads were almost touching. His breath was warm against her skin, and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart in the small space between them. "Me too," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in each other's presence, the world around them forgotten. It was as if the rest of the asylum had disappeared, leaving only the two of them on this rooftop, suspended in time.
And then, before she could think, before she could question it, Evelyn closed the distance between them. Her lips brushed against his in a tentative, almost shy kiss, but the effect was instant. Colby responded immediately, his hand tightening on the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer still.
The kiss was slow, tender, filled with the kind of raw emotion neither of them could put into words. It wasn't hurried or desperate, but rather a soft, intimate connection that spoke of something deeper—a need to feel, to be understood, to not be alone.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together. Evelyn's heart was racing, her skin buzzing with the lingering warmth of his touch. She could feel the weight of the moment between them, heavy and fragile, like something precious that had just been discovered.
"I don't want to lose this," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Colby's fingers traced the line of her jaw, his touch gentle. "You won't," he promised softly. "We won't let this place take it from us."
For the first time in a long while, Evelyn believed him.
