CHAPTER 68: CHAPTER 68: DON’T PUSH IT.

"I’m sorry."

Victor’s expression didn’t change at first. Then the corner of his mouth tilted, a flicker of warmth threaded through it.

"You’re allowed to be angry," he murmured, voice low and steady. "Let’s have an understanding before we get out of the room."

Elias’s brows drew together, but he didn’t look away. The quiet weight of Victor’s tone settled over him, and despite everything still coiled in his chest, he stayed in his seat, waiting.

Victor rested his forearms on the table, fingers lacing loosely together. The faint shimmer of ether along his skin had dulled now, less a warning and more a low, steady pulse, like a heartbeat finally slowing after a fight.

"I don’t need your gratitude," Victor began, voice quieter now, steady in a way that made the room feel smaller, more private. "But I do need this... honesty. Even when it’s ugly. Especially when it’s ugly." His eyes held Elias’s, bright and unflinching. "If something I do cuts too deep, I want to hear it from you, not after you’ve packed your things and slammed a door."

Elias’s throat worked. He let out a shaky breath, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands before coming back up. "You make it sound easy."

"It isn’t," Victor said, the corner of his mouth curving faintly again. "If it were, I wouldn’t have spent centuries watching people destroy everything they love because they refuse to speak."

Elias shifted, shoulders loosening a fraction, though tension still lingered in the set of his jaw. "I’m not good at this," he admitted. "Talking about... everything. My family taught me to keep my mouth shut and survive."

Victor’s gaze softened further, though his tone stayed even. "Then learn with me. I’m not asking you to pour everything out in one night. Just... don’t vanish on me, Elias. Don’t leave me guessing."

Elias’s lips parted, but no words came at first. He blinked, looked down at the faint tea ring on the table, then back up. "...Alright," he said quietly. "But you have to do the same. No more deciding things for me and dropping them like bombs over breakfast."

A low chuckle slipped from Victor, warm and quiet, settling in the air like smoke. "Fair," he said simply. "No more bombs. Only warnings."

Elias shook his head, but the edge in him eased, a tired smile flickering across his face. "God, you’re impossible."

"And you’re still here," Victor murmured, leaning back slightly, his gaze steady and almost amused. "Which means I’m doing something right."

"You locked the door."

Victor’s lips curved just a little further, that dark, quiet amusement returning as he glanced toward the door without moving to unlock it.

"True," he said, tone smooth, almost lazy. "I would do it again if needed."

Elias narrowed his eyes, a tired spark of defiance flickering back to life as he leaned an elbow on the table.

"You’re unbelievable," he muttered, though his voice had lost its edge, softer now, almost resigned.

"Are all your first dates a failure?" Victor asked, amused.

Elias blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the shift in tone. His brows drew together, and then he gave a short, incredulous laugh.

"This is a date to you?" he asked, lifting his mug again, mostly to hide the faint flush creeping up his neck.

Victor’s amusement deepened, a low, warm sound threading through the air. He tilted his head, crimson eyes bright with mischief.

"You’re sitting across from me, drinking tea I chose, in a room I reserved for us, talking about our future. What else would you call it?"

Elias set the mug down carefully, eyeing him with a mix of exasperation and something softer he didn’t want to name.

"A disaster," he said finally, dry as paper. "Most people don’t lock their dates in a room and demand honesty before dessert."

Victor’s lips curved into that slow, infuriating smile, a glimmer of something far too certain flickering in his crimson eyes.

"Most people aren’t worth the effort," he said softly, as though it were an obvious truth.

Elias’s breath caught despite himself. He shifted his gaze away, letting it fall to the dark swirl of tea in his cup, his fingers absently tracing the rim as though the motion could anchor him. The silence between them stretched, warm and charged, until Elias finally drew in a slow breath.

"I’ll give you the chance at another one," he said quietly, the words clipped but sincere, his eyes still fixed on the mug. Then he looked up, meeting Victor’s gaze with a spark of reluctant defiance. "Just one."

Victor’s smile deepened, the faint shimmer of his ether catching the light as he leaned back in his chair, watching Elias with that quiet, dangerous amusement.

"One’s enough," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "I don’t need more than that to prove myself."

Elias snorted under his breath, though the edge of tension in his shoulders softened. "You sound awfully sure for someone who locked me in a room five minutes ago."

Victor’s brows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if suppressing another smile. "And still," he said, tone smooth as glass, "you’re giving me a chance."

Elias shook his head, a tired laugh escaping him before he could stop it. "Don’t make me regret it."

Victor leaned forward slightly, resting an arm on the table, his gaze catching Elias’s with a steadiness that felt heavier than the air itself.

"I won’t," he said simply, the certainty in his voice so calm, so absolute, it left Elias momentarily without words.

The quiet stretched between them, but this time, it wasn’t stifling. It was... easier.

Victor tilted his head, that sharp smile returning just faintly. "So," he said, voice lighter now, "when do I get to plan that second chance?"

Elias let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as though hiding the ghost of another reluctant smile. "We’ll see," he muttered, pushing the mug away. "Don’t push your luck, godhood."

Victor chuckled low in his throat, a sound rich and warm enough to curl in the air between them. "Oh, Elias," he said softly, "I already did."