your boyfriend, Ilya Rozanov sat beside you with his body slightly pressed to yours on the chunk of wood on your deck as a seat, keeping eyes fixed on the fire flickering in front of him. the sun had already set on this beautiful but slightly chilly night, and staring at the flickering bright glow of the warm flames was the only source of entertainment he had since this bonfire had been your idea, and despite ilya having better (but dirty) ideas of how to spend the night, he liked how excited you had been to start this bonfire and how you seemed to like to occasionally poke it. he didn’t know what purpose it served though, or if it even did anything

there was something little creepy to him about sitting in this small glow of light in the middle of total darkness in the middle of nowhere at your cottage. Everything was quiet except for the occasional lap of water from the lake and the crackle of the fire.

until he heard a howl in the distance, which scared the shit out of him. ilya was from Russia, a place where a howl means wolf.

“What the fuck was that?!” He couldn’t conceal the terror in his voice, but he didn’t care because he heard wolves.

you only laughed and told him that it was a loon

“a what?”

’a loon!’ you said, and through your laughter you explained that it was a bird, a duck kind of looking animal. You laughed because you nearly thought it was a wolf.

“Fuck you and your loon!” he said angrily as you doubled over in hysterics. “Stupid Canadian wolf bird.”

he wanted to push you and your stupid cute face into the fire because he couldn’t appear to not look at your adorable, happy face.

you put your hands to your mouth and made that wolf bird noise.

“You speak bird now too?” his voice was flat.

you laughed and said that you spoke fluent bird, with no accent.

“I fucking hate you.” he grumbled.