The Death Of Peace Of Mind
Pairing: Noah Sebastian/OFC | Warnings: hacker girl meets the world's weirdest man, bestfriend!Nick, mysterious!Noah, awkward first meeting, domestic fluff, vampires behaving suspiciously, emotional damage, slow burn so slow it's practically glacial, no smut until chapter 39 (yes, I'm making you suffer with me)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 – The Ghost in the Parking Lot
n/a: Hi, friends! Mal here again. I decided that every chapter is getting its own song because every scene has a soundtrack in my head, and this one absolutely deserved one.
I'm also leaving my Pinterest boards here since they're basically the visual moodboards for this fic. I'm still relearning how to use Tumblr, but I'm having so much fun with it. I'm trying to make this little corner look as pretty as possible because, unfortunately (or fortunately?), once I commit to something, I become a little bit unhinged and physically cannot do anything halfway.
I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
My DMs and asks are always open if you ever want to chat about the story. 💕
Tag list so far: @novainpolaroids @itsfarbettertolearn
TDOPOM Vibes TDOPOM Characters
It was almost midnight when Elera decided she would actually go.
The city glowed in static. Billboards flickering, lights bleeding through the fog. Somewhere above, a plane crossed the smog with a distant roar, leaving behind a scar of light that vanished too fast to matter.
She adjusted her jacket, hands buried deep in her pockets, eyes fixed on the half-empty parking lot of the shopping complex. It looked ordinary enough. That was the point.
Nick had chosen the place because it was “safe.” Surrounded by cameras, empty after hours. Too visible to be dangerous and yet too deserted to feel normal.
Elera scanned the area out of habit. Three exits, two cars parked, one of them with its engine still warm.
If anything went wrong, she’d head for the stairwell on the right. She wasn’t naive; eleven years online didn’t erase the basic rule of survival: no one is who they say they are until you look them in the eye.
She waited.
A cold wind slipped between the concrete pillars, carrying the metallic scent of rain and exhaust. Her reflection blinked back at her in the glass of a vending machine, caramel-olive skin that shimmered subtly under artificial light, short platinum hair, eyes like a glitch between brown and green. There was something quietly exotic about the contrast, something that didn’t try to be noticed but was. Her lipstick had faded; she didn’t bother fixing it.
Then, footsteps.
Slow, steady, coming from the ramp ahead.
A man emerged from the shadows, tall, posture upright, carrying the kind of tension that comes from a life spent ready to react. He stopped a few meters away, hands visible, calm but cautious.
Nick.
For years, he’d been a voice through speakers, a ghost behind encrypted messages and late-night laughter. Now, standing in front of her, he was too… real.
His skin was pale under the flickering lights, jawline sharp, expression uncertain. The cap and oversized shirt gave him a casual air, but there was an edge beneath it, a precision that didn’t belong to someone ordinary. Tattoos climbed his forearm in bursts of color, shapes almost alive under the fluorescent light. He looked like the kind of person who could disappear into a crowd.
For a heartbeat, they just stared.
Then Elera broke the silence, her voice dry, with that brand of humor that sounded like a shield:
— So… what’s the safe word again? Or do I just say “lag detected” if you try to stab me?
Nick’s lips curved into a brief, nervous smile.
— Lag detected works. But you’re safe, I promise.
— Yeah, that’s exactly what someone not safe would say.
The tension cracked. Just a little. He chuckled and she realized it was the same laugh she’d heard for years through the headset, distorted by static and caffeine.
They both hesitated, that awkward moment when digital friendship meets the inconvenient truth of bodies and proximity.
Handshake? Hug? Nod?
Elera solved it her way: she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Nick froze for a fraction of a second, surprised. Then exhaled, returning the embrace carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.
It wasn’t romantic. Nor was it platonic. It was recognition: eleven years of code, secrets, and sleepless nights compressed into one touch.
When they finally let go, he muttered:
— You’re taller than I imagined.
— You’re not a creep.
— That’s a lie.
He smiled.
And then Elera noticed the other presence.
Standing a few meters behind Nick, half-leaning on an old payphone like some relic of a forgotten era, was a man she hadn’t seen before. At first, she thought he was just another stranger until she realized how still he was.
Not motionless in the human sense, but precisely still. Like he breathed only when he chose to. His skin was pale in a way the light seemed to refuse. Black coat, gloves, dark hair falling slightly over his face.
He wasn’t looking directly at her and yet somehow she felt seen.
Judged.
Weighed.
Nick turned slightly, noticing her focus.
— Ah… yeah. That’s Noah.
The name landed like a pulse. She’d heard it before in half-truths, in deflections, in that one late-night call where Nick’s voice trembled just a bit when he said, “He’s not someone you want to meet.”
Elera forced a smile, the kind that hides discomfort.
— You brought backup?
— You could say that.
Noah finally looked at her.
No greeting. No words. Just a subtle nod, controlled and distant. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but something in them flickered for a second. Recognition? Or maybe suspicion.
She couldn’t tell.
“Silent type,” she thought.
But his silence wasn’t shyness, it was choice. Like every sound he didn’t make was another secret kept alive.
Nick gestured toward the car.
— Come on. We’ll talk somewhere warmer. He’s coming with us, but don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.
Noah’s mouth twitched, barely perceptible. Elera raised an eyebrow.
— Is that supposed to be a joke?
— Half of one.
The car waited in the dim corner of the parking lot, sleek, low, metallic, the kind of machine that looked like it could either outrun a drone or hack it mid-flight. Its interior glowed faint blue, dashboard alive with soft neon.
Elera traced the lines with her eyes and smirked.
— I honestly thought you’d drive something self-righteous. You know, solar panels, autopilot, the whole I’m saving the world with tech vibe.
Nick snorted.
— Too predictable.
— Says the guy with a car that looks like it runs on caffeine and regret.
— You’re not entirely wrong.
Noah opened the back door without a word and slipped inside first, his movement smooth, almost soundless. Elera hesitated before following, her instincts prickling. Sitting next to him felt like sitting beside a closed book written in a language that shouldn’t exist.
He smelled faintly of rain and metal. Not perfume just presence.
Nick started the engine, the hum filling the silence.
As the city lights blurred through the windows, Elera glanced at Noah through the reflection on the glass.
— So, what’s your role in all this? Silent investor? Personal bodyguard?
Noah’s answer came low, almost indifferent:
— Observer.
— Of what?
He turned his head, eyes meeting hers in the mirror.
— Everything.
The word landed like a blade, quiet and deliberate.
Nick, sensing the tension, broke the silence.
— Elera, you okay?
— Fine. — She replied. — Just realizing “observer” is the creepiest possible answer in this context.
Noah didn’t respond. But a faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth, so brief she almost thought she’d imagined it.
The ride continued in fragmented light and low music. Nick’s playlist pulsed with metalcore catharsis, soaring synths and aching screams melting into the low hum of the road.
Elera leaned against the window, watching the city dissolve into electric veins and digital ghosts. This was the world she’d always known from behind a screen and now it pulsed around her, louder, messier, real.
And somehow, beside Nick and this strange, silent man, she felt like she was crossing an invisible threshold.
They stopped near the river. As he parked, Elera spoke softly, half to herself:
— You really live like this?
Nick smiled, half-proud, half-tired.
— Like what?
— Like you’re expecting the world to end and you want front-row seats.
He looked at her, eyes catching the pale glow of the dashboard.
— Maybe I just don’t like surprises.
Noah stepped out first, the car light slicing his silhouette. Elera followed. The night air was colder here, sharper, cleaner. She hugged her jacket closer, curiosity replacing caution.
By the time they reached Nick’s apartment, the city had started to die down, only the constant buzz of electricity refused to sleep.
The building was one of those architectural paradoxes of the new century: mirrored glass and carbon concrete, anonymous enough to hide in plain sight. No name on the door. No number. No concierge. Just encrypted access and silence.
Inside, it felt like stepping into another ecosystem.
Two floors. Open space. Dim light.
Half of the living area was filled with equipment, servers humming quietly, monitors breathing soft blue, the scent of something warm and electric faint in the air. The other half was unexpectedly human. A couch older than the rest of the furniture. Books stacked in messy piles. A half-eaten protein bar forgotten near a console.
It felt strangely comforting, like walking into a cathedral made of light and code.
Noah lingered near the entrance. Elera caught his reflection in one of the dark monitors — tall, still, like he belonged to the shadows more than the room itself.
She turned to Nick.
— So… this is it. The lair. Half lab, half paranoia museum.
— Accurate. — He said, sitting down, already waking up a dozen terminals.
She circled the space, taking it all in. For the first time, Nick saw her as she truly was, not just a voice, but a person who belonged among machines. Her fingers brushed lightly over a console, eyes gleaming as if reading invisible code in the air.
Noah watched her quietly. There was something about her presence that disturbed the equilibrium of the room, not in a loud way, but like a note slightly out of tune in a perfect symphony. Human, fragile, and yet… too aware.
Elera finally turned toward him.
— You’re staring.
He didn’t deny it. Something in his chest tightened, like déjà vu whispered in reverse.
— You look… familiar.
She raised an eyebrow, smirking.
— If that’s a pickup line, it needs work.
Nick’s fingers froze mid-typing. He knew that tone, both of them testing the limits, unaware of the shadow history between their names.
Elera walked past Noah, close enough for him to catch the faint rhythm of her heartbeat. She didn’t flinch. But something — instinct, maybe — made her glance back.
And when their eyes met again, she couldn’t explain the sensation: like she’d just looked into something ancient, quiet, and unbearably lonely.
Nick cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
— Listen. Before we dive in… I need you to understand something.
Elera raised an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of the couch.
— That’s usually what people say before giving bad news.
— Not bad. Just… protocol. — He gestured vaguely toward the upper floor. — You’ll stay here for a while. At least until I figure out how deep this thing goes.
She blinked.
— Stay here? Like… live here?
— Temporarily. The network traces you found weren’t random, and they might be dangerous. If someone’s tracking us back, I’d rather you be under my roof than your own. — His tone was matter-of-fact, but the concern underneath it was real.
Elera crossed her arms, suspicious but intrigued.
— So let me get this straight. You invite me to your secret hideout, and now I’m grounded here?
Nick sighed.
— Not grounded. Sheltered. There’s a difference. — He pointed to a sleek panel near the door. — I’ve already created credentials for you. Doors, elevators, even the digital lock on the fridge. You can go out whenever you want; the system only responds to your signature. You can change the passcode anytime. Total autonomy.
She studied him for a moment, unsure if this was sweet or terrifying.
— You really planned all this, huh?
— Paranoia is my cardio. — He smiled faintly. — If you want, I can set up a full workstation here. But I figured you’d prefer your own machine.
Her lips curved into a knowing grin.
— You figured right. I brought mine. — She patted her backpack. — Running QubesOS, with a custom kernel. I don’t trust anything I didn’t compile myself.
— Of course you don’t. — He teased. — You know that’s borderline masochism, right?
— So is trusting people. Yet here I am.
That made him laugh again, softly this time, a little tired. For a moment, they looked at each other, and it felt like the years of distance had compressed into something tangible: comfort laced with danger.
But Noah was still there.
He hadn’t moved. Just watched them interact. The easy rhythm between them, the unspoken trust. It was a strange thing to witness. Trust was a currency he didn’t use anymore.
Elera eventually noticed his silence again. She turned toward him, half-smiling, half-challenging.
— You always stand guard like that, or are you trying to scare me?
Noah’s gaze met hers, calm and steady.
— Neither. — Then, after a pause — I observe.
— You said that before. — She tilted her head. — You make it sound like a full-time job.
— It is.
Nick cut in, shaking his head.
— Don’t mind him. He’s not exactly a people person.
Elera’s smirk widened.
— Yeah, I noticed. He stares like he’s trying to find the source code of my soul.
Noah’s expression didn’t change.
But his eyes — dark, liquid, too still — flickered for a fraction of a second. If she’d blinked, she would’ve missed it.
Nick clapped his hands once, redirecting the moment.
— Okay. Ground rules: you can come and go. I’ve spoofed our geolocation in three layers: Tallinn, Buenos Aires, and one floating off the coast of Japan.
— So… no ordering food?
— Only from places that don’t exist.
She laughed.
— Perfect. I’ve always wanted to starve anonymously.
He rolled his eyes.
— There’s food in the fridge. And a bedroom upstairs. I actually set it up years ago, just in case I ever needed to host someone off-grid. Didn’t think it’d be you.
Elera glanced toward the upper floor. The staircase was metallic, lit by embedded LED strips.
— You made me a room?
— Technically, my ex-wife made a guest room. You’re just the first person who qualifies as ‘guest’ in… years.
Something in his tone made her chest tighten for a second, a flicker of shared solitude she understood all too well.
— Guess that makes us both bad at letting people in.
— Guess so.
A silence settled. Not awkward — just real.
Noah finally moved. The shift was subtle but broke the static in the room. He walked closer, gloved hands in his pockets, posture impossibly straight. The air seemed to thin slightly as he passed, or maybe it was just her imagination.
Elera turned her head to meet his eyes again, curiosity overriding caution.
— You don’t talk much, do you?
— Only when necessary.
— And what qualifies as necessary?
He studied her for a long moment before answering.
— When silence stops being useful.
She almost smiled. Almost.
Nick exhaled loudly, dragging a hand through his hair.
— You two are going to kill me. Can we at least pretend this isn’t the start of a social experiment?
Elera shrugged.
— Depends. Do I get paid?
— You get protected.
She gave him a look — half amused, half grateful — the kind that says I won’t admit you’re right, but you probably are.
Then she picked up her backpack and started up the stairs.
— You really trust me that much?
Nick met her eyes.
— I don’t trust easily. But I trust patterns. And yours hasn’t failed me yet.
Elera considered that, then gave a small nod — a quiet thank-you disguised as indifference — before disappearing up the stairs.
When the sound of her footsteps faded, the silence between Nick and Noah thickened.
Noah stood by the window, looking out at the city. The glow of distant neon painted his face in fractured color.
Nick leaned back on the couch, watching him.
— You didn’t like her.
— I don’t know her. — Noah’s tone was flat, but something in it betrayed unease. — She’s too… real. For someone who hides behind machines.
— That’s what makes her different. — Nick rubbed his eyes, exhausted. — Besides, she’s not a threat. She’s just… curious.
Noah turned his head slightly.
— Curiosity has killed more than hatred ever did.
Nick chuckled.
— Spoken like someone who’s seen both.
Noah didn’t respond.
Upstairs, Elera was unpacking her black laptop humming quietly as it booted, the glow of her custom terminal lighting up the dark room. Her fingers danced over the keyboard, re-establishing the digital comfort zone she needed to breathe.
From below, she could feel Noah’s presence like static in the air, constant and watchful. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, it didn’t unsettle her. It just made the night feel heavier.
Nick’s voice rose faintly from downstairs.
— Welcome home, Elera.
She smiled to herself, a small, private smile, before typing her first line of code inside the new network.
