Countdown to twenty-four hours before the big heist and Solace was going crazy.

The tablet sitting on her desk was mocking her, calling her a coward, and daring her to use it. It was as if it somehow grew a pair of lips, flapping its mouth in its Boston accent, throwing out words like malingerer and recreant. She wasn't sure why her imagination chose such synonyms, but as a raging winner of the spelling bee competitions, even her conjured inanimate objects decided to go above and beyond with the insults.

With an irritated sigh from her bed, she hauled herself up and seized the tablet. "Fine, you win," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Might as well add hysterical to her list, too.

The time half-past ten glowed on the screen, and she knew it was a far better option to get some sleep. Yet, Solace picked up the stylus and clicked on an app she had downloaded alongside Sage the other day. Tonight was good as any to try.

At first, she tested on the pen, determining how much to press. She familiarized herself with the app, pressing random buttons to see what they did and where the variety of colors were kept. The eraser-shaped button was one she would definitely be using with her need for perfection. A few other options allowed her to shade and blend. Solace was in awe.

And when Solace was ready to create, her mind came up blank. No inspiration from the whistle of the wind or the light glow of her lamp. Her stylus hung over the screen, willing herself to draw something, anything. But there was nothing.

She flung herself onto the bed exasperatedly, gazing up at the empty ceiling for incentive. It was nothing but plain and white. However, there was one place she could go. There was not a dull corner in that place. With newfound conviction, she gathered her supplies and wrapped herself in her blanket. Slowly creaking open her door, her slipper-clad footsteps shuffled against the floorboards as she made her way into the corridor.

Faded lightbulbs illuminated the hallway, a telltale sign they didn't have much life left in them. Solace had never done this before, creeping in the middle of the night to go to the rooftop. She hadn't done art since she moved here, but when Emi and she were exploring the building, they stumbled upon the greenhouse that had long been abandoned. Some of the tenants would still tend to the plants and brush the rubbish off the floor, but Solace had a feeling it was even greater once upon a time.

The door to the roof opened with a hard tug, a whoosh of air hitting her in the chest. The four glass walls and dome kept out the Boston cold for the most part, but goosebumps still swept her skin. To her surprise, the lights were already on, casting a welcoming glare over the potted geraniums and hanging ferns and more importantly, a shirtless boy sitting on the bench.

Dusty dirt and wilted leaves crunched underneath her slippers as she made her way over to him, not having to see his face to already recognize the jagged scars and black tattoo of a ring enclosing a fist. It appeared he was in deep thought when he only looked up from in hands in bewilderment once she took a seat beside him.

"You sure are one shitty spy," remarked Solace teasingly.

Sage scowled. "I was thinking."

"That must have been a long and lonely journey."

"Don't tempt me to throw you off this roof," he threatened, but even then, Sage was unable to hide the amusement in his eyes.

Solace rolled her eyes. "How did you find this place?"

"I've been coming up here for a while when I can't sleep," Sage said. He rested his elbows on his knees. "Which are most nights."

Before she could restrain her tongue, Solace said, "You slept perfectly fine in my bed."

Then, there it was. The odd crackling energy between the two, wrapping around their limbs, pulling them closer, and wisping down their lungs. The shroud of the night and the intimacy of the dark sky were not doing Solace any favors. Why did she have to say such a thing? All it brought about were tendrils of blushing but forbidden thoughts. She bit her tongue, hoping desperately he hadn't heard in the midst of sirens and car engines, or would at least save her the embarrassment. It was her turn to stare down at her hands.

Sage Reyes never did what she wished. "Because you were there," he softly said in a way that made her wonder if he was the one outside her bedroom door on nights she couldn't sleep.

Shaking her head of the day she woke up in arms and her bed feeling strange without him ever since, she motioned at his naked torso as casually as she possibly could. "Aren't you cold?" asked Solace.

Now, he shook his head, returning to staring at his clasped hands. Solace took the moment for her eyes to skim over his skin. The scars on his body told stories, and she wanted to hear all about them if he was willing to tell her. It was as if her limbs had a mind of their own when her hand reached up and ran a gentle finger down the ridged pink flesh on his shoulder blade.

"How did you get this scar?" she whispered, her voice only a notch above a hush.

Sage did not say anything, drawing out the lieu of silence. Then, he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as if preparing to voice his dangerous tales. And dangerous they were. It happened in Tokyo, its underground blackmarket rampant with upcoming drugs and destructive weapons. His job was to kidnap the scientist. She stopped him before he could reveal the name. Sage was too honest when it came to his stories. The capture of the man had almost gone haywire when members of the Yakuza intercepted them. The fight and bloodshed led to at least three scars – one on his inner bicep and the other on his right calf.

The mark on his lower abdomen was from a gunshot wound after escaping the police in Palma, Spain, and the slash marring his back, parallel to his spine, was a training accident when Vince, a disgrace of a human being, stabbed him in the back to teach him a lesson. We have no honor. We fight without rules. That was one messed up moral code in her opinion.

Solace began to lightly trace the scar beneath his heart that was battering against her hand. She wished she could take away the pain it caused. To hurt the person responsible for his wounds. The intensity in that thought scared her. He shivered under her touch.

"That was the first one," Sage murmured, sounding too close.

She was about to ask how he got it when she realized he was gazing down at her with this look that quickened her breath and made her mind go hazy. Ripping away her hand and clearing her throat, she said, "Anyway, I just came up here to draw." In a stiff manner, she waved the tablet in the air.

Sage stayed nailed to the spot close to her. He rubbed the back of his neck. "You still haven't used it, have you?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. He knew her all too well.

"No," she admitted embarrassingly, still gawking at the shut tablet.

"I'm not sure if you're aware, but you usually have to turn it on for it to work," he remarked dryly.

She made a face but did what he said. As it turned on, she grabbed the edge of her blanket and wrapped it around his bare shoulders. Solace was careful to avoid eye contact or make further contact with his warm skin. He had shivered, and it was clear that he was cold even if he was too prideful to admit it. Casually, she focused her sights back on the tablet and pressed on the app, grasping the stylus lightly in her hands. Solace took a moment to carefully observe her surroundings.

Droplets of water on the waxy sheet of the ferns rolled down, outgrown foliate swirled down to the floor like Rapunzel letting down her hair, and the painted pots used as time-consuming projects for hyper children faded from time and dirt. One, in particular, was for Mother's Day with the words in small messy pink paint as if the kid was worried they wouldn't have enough space.

Claw-like cuts marred the glass walls from the branches that would strike on windy nights like those scenes from horror movies. The cracks were refined from the frost clinging to the glass, crawling further and further inward until heat would melt it away to peek outside.

That was what she drew. Solace struggled at first to find the right shades and right buttons, but once she was in the groove, the imperfections and charm of the greenhouse were encapsulated onto the screen. It wasn't as prodigious as she usually was with oil paints and canvases, but this was her first time, she told herself. With more practice, the better she would become.

Throughout the process, Sage sat quietly, watching her intently and only stirring to wrap the blanket tightly around their shoulders or shift in his seat. It was always closer. He never said one word, not a single joke, or sarcastic remark. Solace would have thought it to be nerve-wracking to draw in front of him with Sage in such close proximity. All she felt was comfort. He supported and encouraged her art. That much she knew.

Besides, Sage was the last person to judge her art. He had the creative capacity of a newborn baby.

Once it was complete, she sat, gazing at her work silently. The quiet of the night was shattered when Solace blurted, "I want to go to art school!" Her eyes widened, and she slapped a hand on her mouth. Saying it out loud made it too real.

Sage jolted in his seat from the suddenness of her raised voice.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and then opened them. "I want to go to art school," repeated Solace with control.

He sighed. "Finally!" exclaimed Sage, nudging her arm. "It took you way too long to figure that out. And I thought you were smart.

Letting his insult side, she smiled. He returned it ten-fold. "I'm going to do it. I probably missed the deadline for art school, so I'll wait another four months and apply," she said, predominantly speaking to herself. "Or I can switch my major at Harvard and apply to the Arts and Humanities program. That way I can keep my scholarship."

"You have lots of options. The only important thing is that you got over your idiocy," teased Sage.

"I really was an idiot, wasn't I?" she muttered. Solace was lucky enough to find something in life that made her heart beat and her blood rush. Not everyone was blessed with such passion. She was seriously going to let it all slip away from her hands because she was scared.

But not anymore. She was going to hold on to her dreams, tightly and sure-fisted until it seared into the palm of her hands. The what could have beens would have haunted her entire life. At least now, if she failed, she would know she failed trying.

All that was left to do was tell her parents. They weren't going to be happy, but they were hours away. Manman couldn't possibly show up at her doorsteps, could she? Nevertheless, she was moving forward with art school. Solace would swallow their disappointment and burn their suggestions. No one could change her mind.

"Look at that, something we can both agree on," he laughed

Solace rolled her eyes, stifling a yawn. "It's getting late, and tomorrow is a big day." She stood up, the blanket following suit around her shoulders.

Sage appeared visibly dissatisfied. "I'm going to stay up here a little longer. Goodnight."

She muttered the same, ready to leave, but instead, placed her tablet on the bench and removed the blanket from herself. Stepping closer until her legs touched his knees, she gently wrapped it around his shoulders, the entire time, returning his intense gaze. Solace's fingers lingered around his shoulders, the thick tension returning with an all-consuming fervor.

Her breath hitched when Sage's hand came around her waist, softly pulling her forward. There was nowhere else to go but onto his lap, her legs on either side of him and their chests inches apart. His hand now sat on her lower back, the other resting firmly on her hip. Solace clutched the blanket tightly, thoughts whirling in her mind of all the things she wanted to do.

Solace glanced at his chain, desiring to pull it forward, to have it dangling above her. The magnitude of the notion jerked her eyes back to his eyes, taking a quick pause at his lips. Sage must have noticed when he slid her closer, eliciting a small gasp from her lips. The look on his face turned her insides into a mess.

Their lips now hovering over each other and their chest heaving, neither of them made a move. It was like an unspoken competition. The two sized each other up, their gazes locked. Who would break first? Who would lose?

But was it even possible to lose in this situation?

"We're supposed to hate each other," whispered Solace breathlessly.

"Do you hate me?" murmured Sage, his breath caressing her lips.

As much as she wanted to lie, Solace couldn't. Not with his hands around her and his eyes burning into her. "No. Do you hate me?"

He shook his head the slightest bit. "No."

Solace wanted this. All those days and nights spending time with, getting to know Sage at a deeper and more intimate level, she had come to one conclusion. She wanted to kiss him. Wanted more and more until she was drunk off him.

But her desire was slowly being corrupted by fear. The anxiety of tomorrow bubbled over, her dread of not having enough time for herself or for him if this became something more. Solace liked being alone and single. Sage had come here barreling and guns blazing, deterring everything she had planned. With him, there would no longer be plans and surety. This boy was the epitome of impulsive. Sage was rubbing off on her, him being the entire reason she would start art school. Solace never would have dared to do such an impromptu thing.

As she got deeper and deeper into her mind, she scrambled off him. Solace couldn't even look in his direction or his crestfallen expression. The greenhouse was getting smaller and smaller, and she needed to leave.

With her face on fire, she scurried away with her tablet in hand, placing more much needed distance between them.

Solace Lauren and Sage Reyes had bickered and hated and insulted one another for years. That was their set dynamic.

But it was beginning to fall, and it was up to her if she would stick around for the collapse or if she would flee.

***

Author's Note:

Alright, here is the last chapter before my short hiatus. I hope it satisfies you all until I finally start writing SIAAF again. I promise whenever I have the chance, I will write and try my best to update. Just know that I never leave things unfinished

Until next time - m.k.t