Harvey tests her posture

Harvey straightened up slowly, hands raised in surrender—at least in theory. His eyes, unfortunately, hadn’t quite gotten the memo.

“Okay,” he said, forcing his voice into something resembling calm professionalism. “Nobody panic. This is… unusual, sure, but not unmanageable.”

Sofie hugged her arms tighter around herself, the invisible jacket doing absolutely nothing for her peace of mind. “You’re both staring.”

Robin immediately turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “I’m not.”

Harvey, however, stayed right where he was. “I kind of have to,” he said gently. “For science.”

That did it.

“For science?” Sofie squeaked.

“I mean—situational awareness,” he corrected quickly. “Look, if your clothes are still physically there, we need to figure out what makes them vanish visually. Movement? Touch? Attention?”

Sofie’s stomach twisted. “Attention?”

Harvey nodded. “You didn’t notice anything weird until people started reacting to you, right?”

She hesitated. “…I guess.”

Robin looked back at her, frowning. “Soph… when you ran to the room earlier—did anything feel different?”

She thought about it. About the way the air had suddenly felt colder. About how exposed she’d felt even before she believed him. Her cheeks warmed.

“I felt… obvious,” she admitted.

Harvey snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”

Sofie flinched. “That’s what?”

“I think the more aware you are of being seen,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “the less your brain can pretend the clothes are there.”

Silence.

Robin swallowed. “So… what does that mean?”

Harvey hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he stepped a little closer to Sofie—slow, deliberate, giving her every chance to tell him to stop.

“It means,” he said, “we need to see what happens when you try not to think about it.”

Sofie laughed weakly. “That’s impossible.”

“Exactly,” Harvey said. “So let’s start small.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he reached out— placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

She nodded, barely.

His fingers brushed what should have been fabric. He felt it—solid, familiar—but his eyes saw nothing. Sofie gasped, instinctively recoiling, her arms shifting, her posture changing.

And that was when it hit her.

The way both boys reacted—not lunging, not touching her directly, but freezing, breath held, painfully aware of where not to look.

Her heart started racing.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “You really cant see ny clothes.”

Harvey met her eyes. “No. But we can see you.”

Her face burned. Not from desire—yet—but from the sudden, terrifying realization that the illusion was cracking. That the clothes she knew were there felt thinner somehow. Less convincing. Like her perception of them was also weakening.

Robin shifted awkwardly. “Soph… if you dont want us here just say so.”

She shook her head, swallowing hard. “No. If this is happening, I need to understand it.”

Harvey stepped back, giving her space. “Then next step,” he said gently, “is control.”

“Control how?”

He gestured vaguely. “Posture. Movement. Awareness.”

Sofie exhaled, trembling. “So you’re saying… the more self-conscious I get…”

“The more your awareness aligns with ours,” Harvey finished, running his hands down her arms and sides, feeling the fabric of her shirt. "Perhaps we can reverse that."

She shivered again—not due to cold, but because suddenly, she wasn’t sure if covering her modesty would ever be possible again

And that scared her more than she realized.

Harvey cleared his throat, suddenly all seriousness again—at least on the surface.

“Okay,” he said. “If awareness is the trigger, then movement is the variable.”

Sofie swallowed. “Movement… how?”

He hesitated, then glanced at Robin. “I’ll explain. You supervise.”

Robin stiffened. “Me?”

“Someone has to make sure this doesn’t get weird,” Harvey said.

Sofie let out a shaky laugh. “It’s already weird.”

But she didn’t tell him to stop.

Harvey stepped closer—slowly, deliberately, giving her time to back away. She didn’t. Her shoulders stayed tense, arms lowered to her sides. She had given up her futile attempts at modesty.

“I’m not going to touch you unless you say it’s okay,” he said.

Her face was bright red now. She nodded anyway. “…Okay.”

Robin looked away immediately. He failed.

Harvey reached out—not to her body, but to her elbow, fingers brushing what should have been fabric. He paused, as if calibrating, then gently adjusted her arms up over her head.

“Try standing up straight,” he said. “You’re curling inward.”

“I’m exposed,” she hissed.

“I know,” he said softly. “That’s part of it.”

Her breath hitched.

He released her, stepped back. “Now walk. Just… two steps back.”

She did—small, careful steps, each one stiff with self-consciousness. She backed straight into Robin. Harvey motioned for them not to recoil away from each other.

Nothing changed.

Sofie frowned. “See? I’m still—”

“Now stop thinking about us,” Harvey interrupted. “Think about how your clothes feel.”

She closed her eyes. “The sweater’s itchy. The waistband’s tight.”

“Good,” he said. “Now turn.”

She turned—awkward, uncertain.

Robin inhaled sharply and immediately hated himself for his internal reactions. Sofie was now face to face with him, her eyes closed, arms over her head like a greek statue. She pressed against him as she swayed.

Sofie opened her eyes again. “…Did it work?”

Harvey tilted his head. “A little.”

She blushed, feeling Robin so close. She could feel his body through her clothes, but he could see hers. Her stomach dropped. “What do you mean a little?”

“It’s like… the illusion’s thinner,” he said. “Not gone. Just less convincing.”

She brought her arms down to cover herself again instinctively—feeling foolish.

“…Why does that feel different now?” she whispered.

Robin spoke without thinking. “Because you’re distracted. I can see your skin getting goosebumps and feel your... uh..." he faltered, not wanting to be inappropriate as he stared at her nipples stiffening.

All three of them froze.

Sofie looked at him slowly. “You noticed.”

Robin’s face went crimson. “I—I meant—”

Harvey jumped in smoothly, cutting the tension. “Posture affects perception. It’s normal.”

Sofie exhaled, stepping away from Robin with a blush “So what—what now?”

Harvey hesitated, then reached out again, this time to her waist. His hands stayed light, careful, clearly waiting for her to pull away.

She didn’t.

“Relax your shoulders,” he murmured. “You’re tense.” He then reached for the hem of her shirt layers, sliding them off her body.

His hands adjusted her posture—brief, controlled, but close enough that she could feel his breath when he spoke. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She let him bend her at the waist untill she was touching her toes.

Robin turned away again. This time it was harder, not staring at her behind.

“There,” Harvey said, after a swift practiced motion had loosed and whisked off the 19y old's invisible bra. This had required more clumsiness than usually, especially around her cleavage. Each item popped into visibility as it had come off. Stepping back he said, “See?”

Sofie, still bent over at the waist. looked at herself. She was wearing nothing but skirts now, but she began to notice those fading as well.

For just a split second—barely enough to register—her reflection felt… wrong. Not naked. Not clothed.

Uncertain.

She gasped.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “I— I almost felt it... the shift in reality. Like a curse hovering over me. Like it was residing in my... clothes?

Silence.

Robin swallowed. “Soph… we can stop.”

She shook her head, flustered but resolute. “No, as long as you primise to fix me. And—warn me next time your hands brush my... boobs.”

Harvey nodded, eyes dark with a hunger he refused to name. “Deal.”

And neither of the boys said out loud how much they deep down wanted to never fix her condition.