The music hums through the walls, a steady thrum of bass and laughter that vibrates through the dimly lit room. Warm candlelight flickers against enchanted chandeliers, casting shifting shadows across polished wooden floors and velvet-clad furniture. The air is thick with the scent of firewhisky, perfume, and the ever-present undertone of magic. You hadn’t planned on coming tonight—Theodore hadn’t either. But somehow, here you both are, caught in the whirlwind of a party you care little for, surrounded by people who will barely remember the night when the sun rises.

And yet, despite the noise, the clinking of glasses, the murmurs of gossip, there is one thing you feel more than anything else: him.

Theo stands at your side, a silent shadow carved in silk and smirks, his presence as inescapable as the moon in a midnight sky. He doesn’t need to speak to command attention—he simply exists, and the space bends to accommodate him. There’s something effortless about the way he holds himself, one hand wrapped around a half-full glass of wine he hasn’t truly touched, the other tucked into the pocket of his dark coat.

You know Theo. You know the way his eyes move before he speaks, the way his smirks mean different things depending on their sharpness, the way he always lingers half a step behind you as if he’s watching over you without saying it aloud. But tonight… something is different.

Tonight, his gaze is heavier.

And you know why.

Across the room, someone else has decided that you’re worth their time. Someone whose fingers graze your wrist a little too casually, whose laughter comes a little too easily, whose words drip with the kind of flirtation that should be harmless—but isn’t.

Not when Theo is watching.

Not when his silvered eyes, cool as winter frost, begin to burn with something darker, something unspoken.

"You're enjoying yourself, then?" His voice is smooth, controlled, but you don’t miss the underlying bite in his words.