Resonance

The General’s projection vanished, taking the official voice and legal jargon with it.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the conversation itself.

Lev hadn’t moved—just watched, calm gaze cutting through the storm the way it always did. He ran a hand over his light brown hair. Even after the altercation and bruises, he looked almost perfect.

The hum of the ship’s engines filled the space as I sank onto my crossed arms, lips pulled thin. From the corner of my vision, Lev stayed in my line of sight, watching me with that irritating patience of his.

He tilted his head, brow lifting slightly. “Are you mad?”

A low grunt slipped out without looking up. “No. Just… give me a minute.”

Heat still burned through my chest, a raw pulse I forced down. Own it, Jade. No time to wallow—it’s just work.

He stayed on the barstool, saying nothing. His fingers drummed once against his leg before he caught himself, folding his hands together. He watched me closely; the faint crease between his brows showing he wanted to ask—but didn’t.

The moment stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. He was waiting, curious, trying to read me. Sooner or later, I’d have to let him in.

Pushing to my feet, I said, “Okay.”

The tension rolled out of me before my hands landed on my hips. I rolled my shoulders; the movement bleeding off nerves before they swallowed me whole. The squeak of shoes across the floor became its own rhythm, distracting enough to keep my head clear.

Lev chuckled under his breath, the sound soft, coaxing. “Are you alright?”

“Yep!” The word popped out too fast.

I grabbed the pad and tossed it at his chest with a light thud. “Did you finish all the reports?”

A restless energy pushed me into pacing, every movement practically daring him to ignore me.

Lev gave me a wary look, then sighed. “Yeah, need to finish this last list.” His attention dropped back to the pad as he scanned the screen.

My breathing shortened as I abandoned pacing and started bouncing in place like I was skipping rope—nervous energy crawling beneath my skin.

Minutes later, his finger slid across the screen. “I’ll do the final revision tomorrow.” His brow lifted. “Not sure why you’re exercising, but it’s throwing me off.”

Arms stretched overhead, lungs burning, and then the words spilled. “You know I have a lot of scars, right?”

Lev’s smile faded; he nodded slowly.

I twisted from side to side, cracking my neck. “They are presents from the orphanage.” A dry laugh slipped out. “I could remove them, you know.”

He stayed still, silent, eyes never leaving me.

Leaning against the table, I shrugged. “Most people do.” My thumb traced along the edge of the transmitter casing. “I haven’t. Not yet.”

The tool bit into my palm. “People see scars and start deciding things about you before you even open your mouth.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “So I stayed busy. Got my license early. Chased criminals. Did rescues. Got shot too many times to count.”

A quiet huff of laughter escaped me. “Meanwhile, I somehow skipped all the normal stuff.”

My shoulders lifted. “No camping. No parties outside family.” My attention shifted back to the transmitter as I pressed harder on the casing.

The hum of the printer and the faint flicker of the lights filled the room, mixing with the sharp scent of recycled ozone—something oddly grounding in the middle of all this.

The casing finally popped open. “I always end up saying the wrong things.” I wrinkled my nose. “Awkward Jade strikes again.”

When the conversation ran dry, Lev opened his mouth, questions hovering—but the next words cut him off.

“That’s why I keep to myself. Just work, video games, snacks, and hiding out here with my tech.”

His expression softened as his focus settled on my arms and the pieces finally connected. No pity. No flinch. Only… understanding.

I’d spent most of my life waiting for the look people usually gave scars. The quiet sympathy. The careful voices. The assumptions.

But none of it came.

Lev’s smile flickered faintly, almost conspiratorial. “Well, for the record, I don’t think you’re awkward.”

A weak breath slipped out as I shook my head. “It’s fine. Doesn’t bother me anymore.”

He chuckled low, but when his gaze returned to me, it held steady. “So… no parties, no drinking?”

My expression tightened, and my lips pressed into a thin line. “Nope.” My shoulders sagged as a knot formed in my stomach. “I just don’t respond well in crowded places.”

I tapped my holster twice and lifted a brow, trying to hide the discomfort creeping in.

A smirk tugged at his mouth, but his eyes lingered longer than they should have. The air between us felt thick with everything I’d just let slip.

I folded my arms on the table and rested my cheek there, exhaustion sinking deep. Sharing small pieces of myself always hollowed me out, but tonight… maybe because he was here, the cuts didn’t feel as sharp.

Lev leaned closer, his voice softer than the quiet around us. “Come with me?”

He stood, a quiet signal to follow. We moved into the kitchen, where he grabbed a cooler bag and started stuffing it with snacks and drinks.

Once he finished, he headed straight for my ship, swung the hatch open, and glanced over his shoulder, waiting for me to climb in.

One brow arched.

May as well tag along; sleep isn’t happening anyway.

He slipped into the pilot’s seat, fingers brushing over the console with an easy claim of ownership. His grin tilted, daring. “I’m flying,” he said. “You don’t know where I’m taking you.”

I dropped into the co-pilot seat with a plop, the harness clicking across my chest, and I exaggerated an eye roll.

We flew past the ‌city center toward the mountains, where the hiking trails cut through the coastline. The forest stretched below like a living sea, shimmering native plants glowing beneath the night sky while distant birds called through the darkness—trails wound between sprawling mansions and estates.

We landed at a deserted overlook. It was late—close to ten.

Stepping out of the ship, I tilted my head toward him. “Are you a criminal undercover who’s going to murder me and dispose of my corpse? Nobody comes here at night.”

Lev laughed and shook his head. “Come on, follow me.”

Whatever, I have nothing better to do.

We took a smaller trail, nothing too steep. My grav-boots kicked in to lighten the effort, though it wasn’t really necessary. Along the way, waterfalls glimmered beneath the moonlight while the trail curved past neighborhoods where pets were finishing their last walks of the night—tails wagging, paws tapping, all heading back toward warm, expensive beds.

Lucky pets. They don’t know how easy they’ve got it.

Eventually, we reached a wide-open clearing surrounded by giant trees. Three benches sat around a small water fountain, and a glass railing overlooked the glowing skyline. The whole place curved into a half-moon shape.

A small rest stop.

Music drifted faintly in the air. Moving closer to the railing, I spotted the coliseum below—its open roof revealing a glowing stage. A concert was in full swing. From here, the sound was clear, like sitting in the very last row. And yet, we were completely alone.

Lev strolled up beside me, close enough that amusement on his face caught my attention before he threw me a quick wink. He flicked two fingers toward his wrist pad.

Stop that.

The projection flared to life, sharp and vivid, the band suddenly appearing beside us as if we had our own private box seat.

My jaw dropped. “I never knew this existed here.”

“Yeah.” His gaze lingered on the coliseum, wonder softening his voice. “It’s pretty neat.”

A smile pulled at my lips before I could stop it, warmth blooming in my chest. “I’ve never been to a concert before.”

He popped open a beer, slid me a soda with his other hand, and lifted his can toward mine. “Then let’s toast to your first concert.”

We clinked cans, the fizz crackling like a promise.

As the band played, Lev filled the air with quiet stories—about where the musicians came from and the meanings behind their songs. His voice blended into the rhythm until we both fell silent, letting the music wash over us. Every now and then, I caught him glancing my way, but I let it pass unmentioned.

It was my first concert. I didn’t want to share it with nerves or doubts. The moment had to be mine.

Never thought I’d ever get to attend one.

When I glanced over, Lev was tapping his foot in time, eyes closed as if soaking in every note. The sight tugged a smile out of me before I could stop it.

“Thanks, Lev. You’re a good friend.”

For a second, he just looked at me. Then his laugh came low, warm, and he cracked one eye open with a crooked grin—playful, like he’d just won a point in a game only he knew we were playing.

We stayed there, sharing snacks while the music carried through the night.

When the last chord finally faded, Lev packed away what was left and tilted his chin toward the sky.

“The last time we saw the two neon moons was last year—on your birthday.”

My gaze drifted upward. The twin moons glowed pale against the dark, their shifting light spilling across the city below. When I looked back, moonlight caught his profile, softening the sharp edges into something quiet, steady. It brushed across his blue eyes, turning them almost silver beneath the faint glow.

For that moment, the distance I always kept between us didn’t matter. He wasn’t pressing, wasn’t performing—just being there.

And against my better judgment, I let myself lean into that comfort.