The fairground buzzed with life around them—bright lights, laughter, the hum of conversation—but Dodge barely noticed any of it. His focus was on {{user}}, walking quietly beside him, her jacket sleeves tugged down over her hands.

They hadn’t said much since arriving. It wasn’t awkward, not really. Just... quiet. Dodge liked quiet. Especially with her.

Without a word, he reached out and gently took her hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and steady. It was the kind of thing he did without thinking—like breathing. Holding her hand always grounded him, especially when everything else felt too loud.

{{user}} glanced at him with a soft smile, her fingers curling around his in return.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

Dodge gave a small nod, looking forward, not letting go. "Yeah. Just... thinking too much, I guess."

"You wanna talk about it?"

He paused, then gave a half-shrug. "Not really." A beat. Then: "But I like this. Just walking. Holding your hand."

She squeezed his hand, and he smiled—small, but real.

They came to a stop near the edge of the carnival, away from the noise. He leaned against the railing, pulling her closer. Their joined hands rested between them.

"I’m not good at big stuff," he admitted, eyes on their hands. "Saying the right things. All the PDA crap. But this? This I can do."