The thunder was unforgivable, striking the skies with relentless and aimless ferocity. Vibrations ran through the white landscape, intertwining with the sharp snowfall. It was like the gods had unleashed a barrage of violent whips on the backs of the clouds as they cried and shouted.

It was simply peaceful.

Solace could fall asleep to the sound of vehement thunder and shattering rain. There was something so comforting about the chaos. While the sky went on a rampage, she was tucked away safely into the amenity of her blankets and her four-bedroom walls.

Any other night, she would have been happily asleep. Her hands would bunch the comforter to her chest, and she would huddle together from the nipping chill. Cold nights were wonderful. But her mind had a different idea. It would not dare quiet down, and that was quite common for her. Alas, these thoughts were not about her future nor her tasks for the following day. They were about a certain honey-eyed boy sleeping in her living room.

His infuriating smile. The forlorn scars that made him insecure. His chain she so badly wanted to touch. The frustrating nickname that he saved for perfect occasions. How he knew just what to say to vex her. How he paid close attention to her face and her confusing schedule. The way he believed in her art and pushed her out of her comfort zone.

Sage Reyes was her equal. When she shoved him, he shoved back harder. They never let one another slack off. Sure, they brought out the worst in each other, but they also pulled out the best.

But she spent years despising and cursing him. She hated him so much that he had taken a permanent residence in her brain. Of course, one thought about their rival all the time. It was healthy and completely normal. It had to be.

And it was like her brain had conjured – no, attracted – him to her, when there was a sudden knock on the door.

"Solace?" whispered Sage loudly. "Solace? Can I come in?"

Had he somehow developed telepathy over the last six months? Did he know what she was thinking? That was a mortifying thought. Sage could never find out that she was thinking about her. It was like a competition, and if he knew that she spent her waking hours with him in her mind, she would lose. Solace would not dare lose to him.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. Solace sat up in bed and cleared her throat. "What is it, now, Sage?" she demanded with her most convincing displeased tone she could possibly muster. It did not have the usual punch.

The door slowly creaked open, a hand fumbling onto the light switch. Solace winced and shielded her eyes from the sudden change. "Can I sleep with you?" wondered Sage sheepishly.

Solace blinked until her eyes settled and gawked at him in his pajamas and a t-shirt that said, Made in El Salvador. She would have admired his unruly hair and his unbecoming shy smile if it weren't for the words that had just been uttered.

"Excuse me?" she spluttered, wide-eyed.

It was Sage's turn to look shocked. "That is not what I meant," he exclaimed, the tips of his ears pink. "Get your mind out of the gutter, geez. I meant, if I could sleep in your room tonight."

His clarification did nothing to answer her continuous stream of questions. "Why?" she asked dumbfounded.

Sage sighed, rubbing his eyes like a child. His eyes flickered to her shut curtains that hid the raging storm. He almost looked embarrassed. "I don't like the thunder. It's loud."

She arched a brow. "And my room is magically sound-proof?"

He huffed frustratingly. The silence between them stretched out for too long. "I'm scared of thunderstorms, okay," revealed Sage as if he had to force those words out of his mouth. "They're loud and scary, and they remind me of things I'd rather forget."

She couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. He looked abashed and cute standing by her doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulder hunched over. And that damned chain of his was loose around his shirt.

"So, let me get this straight. You're an asthmatic knitter slash quarter-baked assassin with a fear of storms?" said Solace slowly. Her tone was teasing and all too light. A stark difference to the merciless night. "Damn, dude. Pick a struggle."

Sage's icy glare could battle Jack Frost. "Half-baked assassin," he corrected indifferently. "What do you say? Can I stay here or not?"

Letting him sleep in her bedroom was not the medicine she needed for her unrelenting disease. It was like drugs. Just knowing he was only a few feet away would make her want more. But to her better judgment, she nodded. Solace not only surprised herself, but Sage as well.

"You can sleep on the ground," she added when he began walking towards the bed with a grin.

It quickly morphed into a frown. "But the ground is cold and hard. Don't do this to me," he whined.

She refused to budge.

"If I wake up with a knot in my back, I'm going to be complaining for days. Do you really want me following you around and groaning about how badly my back hurts?" he pointed out, but it almost sounded like a threat. It was like he was saying, 'if I'm in pain, you will be too from my excessive talking.'

Solace gritted her teeth. A perfectly healthy Sage would not compare to a slightly sick one. The one time he was sick in freshman year, he moaned and bitched about it all day. During first-period science class. Throughout gym and even at lunch. She yelled at him to go home, but he wouldn't dare with their maths exam coming up at the end of the week. That moron gave her the bug, and both showed up on test day, sniffling and sneezing. They got the highest marks in the class even when they were hopped off on cold medicine.

"Fine, get in," she muttered, lifting her blanket. He quickly closed the lights and smugly entered the warmth of her bed. "But shut up and stay on your side. You so much as touch me, I will douse you in kerosene and set you on fire."

"Fair enough," he shrugged as if he wasn't getting into bed with a potential arsonist.

Solace fixed her bonnet and slumped back into her pillow, shuffling to the far side of her queen-sized bed. She wanted to leave as much distance between themselves as possible. It wasn't like they had never spent the night together. They had back when they were trapped in Moore's office. But this was different. There was a bed. This was far more intimate than the carpet of a conference room.

But she would not think about the bed. Or him. Or her. Or the two of them in a bed alone in the dark. I'm already off to a terrible start. Solace would think of her schedule for tomorrow. Alright, she would wake up. Brush her teeth and shower. And then... she had no idea. Classes were finished, so there was nothing to study or read or write notes on. Her next internship shift wasn't until the day after.

And in the weak moment, thoughts of Sage's arms around her and his warm breath tickling her skin became more prominent in her mind.

Quick, what can I do tomorrow? Solace could go shopping again. She could do her make-up, dress up, and go out for breakfast with Emi. But she would be at work. How about Everly or one of her school friends? Binge-watching another season of a random sitcom was always an option. So many possibilities. She could call Louis and ask about his winter break. Perhaps get some more information on Jabari.

"I can't sleep," groaned Sage, jolting a bit when the thunder boomed.

I was doing so well.

Solace turned her head to him. She could only see his silhouette, and for that, she was thankful. "Here's a suggestion. Close your eyes and pretend you're dead. Or, if you're bad at pretending, I could always kill you," she remarked casually.

Sage ignored her blatant proposal to murder him. She didn't know why. She thought it was a great offer. "Do you have any sleeping pills? Possibly horse tranquilizer?" he asked curiously.

"Just rat poison."

He hummed in thought. "Maybe if I took a small dose."

She stared at him incredulously. Sage could not seriously be considering rat poison to sleep. With newfound empathy and an unwanted feeling of concern, she rolled onto her side and turned on her lamp. Solace rummaged through her desk and drawers, grabbing two blank pieces of paper, two pencils, and textbooks.

Solace turned to see his curious gaze. His eyes and scar and furrowed brows were all visible from the lamp. She preferred it when it was dark. She couldn't handle his charming face in the warm light. Not when his cheeks hollowed out softly, and his olive skin glowed like the sun.

"What's this for?"

The textbook made a thump when she threw it on his lap. He groaned at the weight. After handing him the paper and pencil, she answered. "When I can't sleep, I draw. Well, I used to," she fixed.

Sage nodded in understanding, watching her intently. Then, his face brightened up with a grin. "What should we draw?"

She shrugged, twirling her pencil in her fingers. "Anything you want. That's the beauty of it."

He tapped the pencil against his lips. Her gaze immediately dropped down. "We'll draw each other, then," smirked Sage, content with his suggestion.

Solace did not need to spend more time staring at his face. Or under his intense gaze. "How about flowers? Giraffes are also a great option," she said.

"Nope, we're doing portraits of each other," he said firmly. Sage was stubborn, and once he made his mind up, he would not bend. "Besides, you owe me one after you got my scar on the wrong side."

There was no winning with him. "Fine," she sighed.

Sage's smile grew, and he shifted in his seat, so he was facing her. Their knees were touching once again. "No peeking."

"Wouldn't dream of it," muttered Solace as she began to create a rough sketch of his head. She examined his sharp jawline and pointed chin meticulously and concluded his head was heart-shaped.

There was nothing but quiet on his end as he prudently pressed his pencil against the paper. He held the stationary like a novice, only to look up at her every few seconds. "That drawing of me. When did you start?" he asked quietly.

Solace ran through the timeframe of the last two months. She had begun somewhere in November and added details every time she was at the office. "A few weeks before you showed up."

"Why?"

Her pencil came to a halt. She raised her head. "Why what?"

Sage swallowed, his throat moving up and then, down. "Why did you draw me?"

"I didn't mean to," she said softly, unable to take her eyes off him. He looked unbelievingly handsome in this light. It was like it was made for him. "I just started to draw, and by the time I finished, I realized it was you."

There was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You thought about me." He didn't say it like a question. More of a statement that could only and ever be true.

I always thought about you. Even when I didn't think I was, I still did.

Solace had no reply to his words, so she reflected instead. "Keep drawing."

She drew the slant of his nose and the small imperfect bump on the bridge that just made it more perfect. The outline of his round eyes and the sketch of his lips. His cupid's bow was prominent, and his bottom lip fuller than the top. The lead rarely left the page until she felt warm hands on her skin. Solace peered upwards and Sage moved his fingers to either side of her eyes.

"I'm measuring your eyes," he explained with focused and narrowed eyes of his own. "I want the picture to be to scale."

Solace couldn't stifle the laugh. It grew when he withdrew his hand, his fingers roughly three centimeters apart, and placed it on his paper. He marked either side. "You couldn't just eyeball it?" she chuckled.

"I like to be precise," he remarked, grinning. Sage was something else entirely. "Now, may I measure your nose?"

"That's a sentence I thought I'd never hear," she murmured, but agreed anyway. Like before, he calibrated the length of her nose, uh-huhing as he retracted his arm and dotted it on his portrait of her. Solace found it impossible to hide her growing smile. This was ridiculous. And a first. She had never seen anyone use this technique before.

"Okay, now, your lips," muttered Sage, placing his index and thumb on either side of her mouth.

Solace froze in her spot. She wanted so badly to stop looking at him, but he caught her gaze before she could do it. His eyes flamed with something she couldn't pinpoint, and she felt her breath stolen from her when he ran the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. It was gentle and soft like a snowflake, but lightning rattled her skin. Her sleep was long gone. She possibly could never sleep again knowing that this was what happened in her bed. Something so innocent, but so profound in meaning.

Sage stared at her mouth like it was art. Like the darker top lip was earth-like in colour but otherworldly in beauty. Like her rose bottom lip was made of cashmere and strawberries. His gaze was appreciative and needy and wonderstruck.

It made her heart do unnatural things and her mind spin unspeakable things. The air was tense and buzzing, and all she could do was sit idly by as he skimmed her lips with his tender touch. Their portraits were abandoned, and she wanted to know where this would go. How far could this night take them?

But it seemed the night had other plans when thunder struck, crushingly and purposefully. It was like the gods took their whips to their backs when both jolted out of their trance that was each other. Sage immediately removed his hand as if her lips that he once admired had burned him. Solace tightened her grip on her pencil and used the other to hold her textbook, stopping her hands from reaching out for him.

"I think I got it," he said to himself, scribbling onto his sketch. He couldn't hide the patches of pink scattering his cheeks, but her brown skin gave her that luxury.

Solace let out a shuddered breath, forcing herself to breathe. She wasn't sure how she felt. She hated the thunder desperately for making him take his hands off her. Yet, she loved the thunder all the same. If it wasn't for the weather, they would have done something they would have regretted. You couldn't go back once the line was crossed. Solace had no intentions of stepping past that barrier. Not even a pinky toe. She would hate him as she had done for years. That would be easier.

With steadier hands, she finished up her drawing. She added his long lashes and shadowed the contour of his cheeks. The line at the center of his lips gave his mouth a poutier look, and the shading of his eyes added the mischievous twinkle he always had. She delicately depicted his wavy hair that fell onto his forehead and hid the tips of his ears. And most importantly, his scar. She was sure to put it on the left this time around.

She cleared her throat for good measure. She didn't trust her voice. "All done."

"One sec," he replied, quickly scratching one more thing onto his portrait. Sage held it in front of him, analyzing it. He nodded at it. "Now, I'm done."

"We'll show it at the same time," she suggested, picking up her drawing nervously. It was good objectively. But would he like it? Would he like the way she saw him?

Sage began the count down, and on three, they revealed their portraits.

Solace couldn't help it. She laughed. The nose was crooked, and her eyes too big. Her lips looked like a football, and her ears were all too droopy. It was like a second grader had drawn the picture. You know, the type where the kid would show their parents and they would clap, telling him how amazing it was just to hang it on the refrigerator. But in this case, if she was the parent, she would 'accidentally' spill milk on it and chuck it in the garbage or hide it beneath her monthly firemen calendar.

"Well, you don't have to laugh," he grumbled. Sage snatched the drawing of him. "Yours isn't even that good." He stared at it for a few more moments. "Who am I kidding? It's perfect."

She paid him no mind as she slapped him on the knee, giggling. "I love it," she promised sincerely.

His frown turned up into a grin. "I even got the daisies on your bonnet," pointed out Sage proudly.

Solace wiped the tears from her eyes. "I think your attention to detail really pulled it together," she remarked amusedly.

"Maybe I should apply to art school." Sage smacked her arm as if he had the best idea since sliced bread. "We could take all our classes together. You need someone to compete with."

"Let's not make any rash life decisions."

"Alright, alright," he said disappointedly. He traced the drawing of himself fondly. Sage was almost admiring it like a true narcissist. "I'm keeping this."

Solace snorted. "Go ahead. I was going to chuck it in the garbage, anyway."

Sage narrowed his eyes. "You should frame my portrait of you."

She snorted again, but this time, it had a more obnoxious ring to it. "I'll hang it on the fridge," she countered.

"I'll take it."

A yawn left her mouth, and she stretched her back. Her alarm clock inched closer to one a.m. "Can we sleep, now?"

He nodded, folding the paper gingerly and sliding it on top of the nightstand. Sage dove under the covers, pulling the blanket to his chin and shuffling until he found a comfortable position. A smile played on his lips like they were the best of friends having a slumber party.

Solace rolled her eyes at his childish behavior and shoved away their textbooks and pencils. After shutting off the lamp, she settled under the blanket. It was warmer with his body heat.

"You're not a blanket stealer, are you?" she asked tentatively.

He smirked deviously. "I guess you'll find out."

***

Author's Note:

Hello!!

Isn't this chapter the cutest? I had so much fun writing this and how their relationship is becoming a bit blurry!

You guys are in for a surprise for Chapter 27!

Also, does anyone else have two-toned lips? I do, and I always hated them growing up. But now, they're something I love about me! I wanted to showcase the beauty of them with Solace.

Until next time – m.k.t