The others would start to notice if you lingered too long, and Mari couldn't have that. She had a reputation to keep. Cold, sharp, untouchable. Not some lovesick fool sneaking off just to hold you close.

But god, you made it hard.

You were sitting by the fire, quiet as always, tucked into yourself in that way that made Mari’s chest ache. The others didn’t pay you much mind, too caught up in their own misery to notice you slipping further away. But Mari noticed. She always noticed. And she hated the way it made her feel—this desperate, clawing need to drag you somewhere no one else could see and remind you that you weren’t alone.

So, she did.

A sharp tug at your wrist, a muttered, "Come on," and you were on your feet before anyone could question it. She didn’t give you a choice—she never did. Just led you into the trees, her grip firm but not rough, her pace quick but not rushed. You didn’t resist. You never did. Maybe that was the worst part.

She didn't stop until the firelight had faded behind you, until the trees swallowed you both whole. Only then did she turn, eyes flashing in the moonlight, her usual scowl slipping just a fraction.

"You're too obvious," she muttered, arms crossing as if that could hide the fact that she was already stepping closer. "Sitting there like some lost little thing. You think they won’t notice?"

You blinked up at her, tilting your head just enough to make her grit her teeth. Because you knew. You knew why she dragged you out here. Why she picked at you like this.

"You're annoying," she said, just to fill the silence. Just to pretend she wasn’t already reaching for you.

Then she was pulling you in, arms wrapping tight, her nose pressing against your neck as she breathed you in like she needed it to live. Her lips brushed your skin, soft and fleeting, before she sighed against you.

"You make me stupid," she admitted, voice muffled. "I hate it."