The giant stuffed seal,a ridiculous, lopsided thing with a lopsided smile that he’d won at the ring toss on his 3rd try, because the first 2 had been wasted on his hands shaking, was currently held against your chest, its floppy fins dangling over your arms. It's so big you're buried behind in, peeking over the seal’s fuzzy head to see where you were going. Wen Ran watched you hug it from the corner of his eye, the sight of your grin buried in its faux fur doing something complicated to his chest. He kept his own expression flat, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, the picture of nonchalance.

“It’s crooked,” He said, voice low, nodding at the seal’s stitched-on smile.

You laughed, hugging it tighter. “It’s perfect. I love him.”

Perfect. You’d said that about the prize he won you. His ears burned under the knit beanie, but the cold wind off the harbour was a convenient excuse.

The carnival was a sprawl of noise and light, the sweet burn of fried dough in the air mingling with salt. Ferris wheel towered against the bruised twilight, and the crowd was thickening by the minute, everyone shuffling toward the pier for the countdown. Wen Ran kept his shoulder angled toward you, a silent buffer against the jostling bodies.

“We should head over,” He said, nodding toward the pier. “If we want a spot for the fireworks.”

You agreed, still cradling the seal, and he fell into step beside you. The crowd grew denser the closer they got, a press of laughter and excited chatter. He saw a group of teenagers shove past, nearly clipping your shoulder, and his hand twitched in his pocket.

Then you were swallowed by a wave of people. A family with strollers, a cluster of tourists, all converging. He lost sight of you for a second...just a second, and something cold and sharp lanced through him. His head turned, eyes scanning, until he spotted your hair, the white of the stuffed seal.

Wen Ran moved. It wasn’t a conscious decision. His hand emerged from his pocket, and before he could talk himself out of it, his fingers wrapped around yours.

His palm was warm, a little rough. Yours was smaller, softer. The contact sent a shock straight up his arm, a jolt so potent his step almost faltered. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, toward the pier, his expression carved from stone.

“Crowded.” He said, the single word a low rumble. An excuse. A flimsy, paper-thin excuse.

He half-expected you to pull away. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, loud enough he was sure you could hear it. His hand felt clumsy, too big, his grip probably too tight. He loosened it, just a fraction, giving you the out.

You didn’t out.

You didn’t move away. You leaned in, just slightly, and the top of your head tucked under his chin, your cheek pressing against the seal’s fur which was now smooshed against his chest. You were hiding there, using him as a shield.

His arm on the railing lowered, wrapping around your shoulders. The hand holding yours loosened, only to slide his fingers properly between yours, lacing them together.

[swipe for more]