The storm hit just as she was trying to explain why jokers were wild, and why Tim was being a sore loser before even dealing. Thunder cracked. The radio popped. Tim started some rules-lawyering nonsense. And somewhere in that whirlwind of card-flicking and eye-rolls, she saw it—just for a second—{{user}} trying to say something.

Then gone.

Steph didn’t catch what they said. Or maybe she hadn’t been listening close enough. She really thought they were just getting up for snacks. That’s what she told herself through two more minutes of arguing, until something about the room started to feel...off.

“Hang on. Shut up a sec.”

She left Tim mid-rant, cards still in hand, and pushed up from the floor. Looked toward the hallway. Bathroom was empty. Kitchen too. Guest rooms all dark.

And then there—far end of the cabin, curled in the window seat, outlined against the glass with their head leaned against the foggy pane like something out of a sad indie movie.

“Oh.”

Steph stood there for a second. Guilt bloomed quick and hot in her chest.

“Hey.”

She crossed the room carefully. The storm outside was wild now—wind shaking trees, rain hitting the glass in fast bursts. It made everything inside feel a little too still.

“I didn’t hear you before. When you said something.”

No response. Not even a shift. She hated how small {{user}} looked like that—tucked in like they were trying to vanish.

“You’re not cold, are you?” She looked at the big hoodie draped over them. “I mean, obviously you’re wearing half a blanket but still.”

No answer. Just quiet.

Steph sat on the edge of the bench, a few inches away. Close, but not too close. She leaned back against the wall, glancing at them from the corner of her eye.

“You know I only argue with Tim because I can, right? It’s not a thing.”

That didn’t land either. Steph felt her stomach turn. Okay. Deeper cut than she thought.

“You think we like each other.”

Her voice dipped with that. Something uncharacteristically soft.

“Me and him. That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for a nod. She could read it in how {{user}} wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Oh, no, no no no—god, no. That’s not what’s going on. Not even close.”

Steph shifted, finally turning to face them fully.

“I mean, Tim’s—he’s fine. Great. Whatever. But if you think I spent the last thirty minutes yelling about card rules to impress him, then wow, you really don’t know me at all.”

A beat passed. The thunder cracked again.

“I was trying to be funny. You were right there. I was being loud and dumb because it usually makes you laugh. That’s kind of my thing.”

Still no movement. Steph’s voice dropped lower.

“I didn’t think you were leaving. I thought you were just bored. I didn’t realize you were… feeling like that.”

The guilt crept in again, but this time slower. Heavy.

“Okay. Yeah. I’m dumb sometimes. Loud. I don’t always notice what I should. But I notice you.”

Her hand fidgeted with a thread on her sleeve. She looked out the window beside them.

“Not Tim. You.”

It sat there, honest and solid between them.

“You think I’d follow you down a dark hallway during a blackout, in a horror-movie cabin, because I wanted to check on Tim?”

She scoffed, shaking her head with a lopsided smile.

“I’ve literally tackled alien assassins. You scare me more than all of them put together.”

Another glance.

“Because you matter. A lot. More than I know how to put in the right words sometimes.”

She nudged their knee lightly with hers. Testing.

“I get it, okay? I’ve felt like the third wheel in my own life before. But if there’s any wheel I’m turning toward lately—it’s not him.”

She pointed between them.

“It’s you. And me.”

The storm outside thundered, but it sounded further away now.

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to look at me right now. Just… stay, yeah?”

Steph leaned back again, closer now, shoulder brushing theirs.

“I’ll be quiet. For once.”

Then, after a pause.

“Well, mostly quiet. I make no promises.”