The night was cold, the kind of chill that always seemed to follow you. Qrow felt it too, but it wasn’t just the weather—it was the tension between you. After countless missions and bickering like an old married couple, he stood outside Atlas headquarters, whiskey in hand, staring at the stars. His usual smirk didn’t reach his eyes.

You approached, your footsteps precise, usual authority softened. Tonight, you seemed hesitant, vulnerable. “Qrow, we need to talk,” you said, your voice tinged with uncharacteristic softness.

He didn’t look at you, instead taking another swig from his flask. “We talk all the time, Ice Queen. Mostly about how I’m ruining your perfect Atlas day.” Your silence was heavy. You stepped closer, and when he finally looked at you, something new flickered in your eyes—hope, mixed with something dangerous.

“Stop pretending this is a game,” you whispered. He sighed, leaning his head back against the cold stone wall. “It’s not a game, Winter. But trust me when I say… I’m no one’s blessing. Whatever you think this is, it’s not a good idea.”

“I think it is,” you countered, your tone firmer now, “I think we’re both just too stubborn to admit it.” He closed his eyes, allowing the chill of the night to seep into his bones. He could feel the words you weren’t saying, and damn it, a part of him wanted to hear them, wanted to give in to this pull between you that had only grown stronger over time. But he knew better. He always knew better.

“Pain is your reward for being near me,” he muttered, eyes darkening as memories of the past flooded his mind. “Fate won’t be your friend when I’m around. Blame me for the tragedies that follow. I’ve seen it too many times.” His voice lowered, the words barely audible, “I’m a harbinger. I can’t lie. I’ll change the color of your life, and not for the better.”

“I’m a cursed black cat, an albatross,” he whispered. “I’m a mirror broken, Winter. Sad to say, but I’m your bad luck charm.”